[She doesn't stop him yet, but her pulse beats quick and uneven to keep up with the way her heart starts to flutter in her chest. Already, he'll feel her breaths growing a touch erratic, though not out of panic. Not yet, anyway, even as his lips brush lightly over her own.
Just like he experiments, so does she—her other hand slipping under his shirt, her palms pressing to the heat of his skin.
She dips away from him for just a moment to lean in a little further, to nuzzle against his jaw, her mouth tracing the sharp contour of it, pausing to savour the way that his stubble scrapes so lightly against her cheek. She always has loved the feeling of it—that rough, masculine line that is only his. She would reach up and run her hands over it before kissing away the light pucker of a frown that would sometimes form because of it.
She returns not long after to press into another kiss, firmer and more certain, as her hands slip forward... forward and forward until they are sliding up his chest, nails raking featherlight over his flesh.]
A little more...
[A quiet plea. A gentle encouragement ridden on a shaky breath for him to push just a little further. She can feel it rising, can feel it swelling in her heart, but if she means to teach him—and herself—what it is she needs, then...]
no subject
Just like he experiments, so does she—her other hand slipping under his shirt, her palms pressing to the heat of his skin.
She dips away from him for just a moment to lean in a little further, to nuzzle against his jaw, her mouth tracing the sharp contour of it, pausing to savour the way that his stubble scrapes so lightly against her cheek. She always has loved the feeling of it—that rough, masculine line that is only his. She would reach up and run her hands over it before kissing away the light pucker of a frown that would sometimes form because of it.
She returns not long after to press into another kiss, firmer and more certain, as her hands slip forward... forward and forward until they are sliding up his chest, nails raking featherlight over his flesh.]
A little more...
[A quiet plea. A gentle encouragement ridden on a shaky breath for him to push just a little further. She can feel it rising, can feel it swelling in her heart, but if she means to teach him—and herself—what it is she needs, then...]