[ He casts her a flat look for a second, something that says, Oh, sure, let me get right on that—
But she sits up, and the movement punches the breath from him. The sight of her captures her attention for a long while – the cascade of her curls over her shoulders, the curve of her breasts above him. He braces his hands on her thighs, smooths them up to grip her hips. She lifts, nearly drawing away from him entirely (and for a heart-stopping second, he's afraid she plans to do just that), but she lowers herself again, slow and deliberate and torturous.
He lets out a low sound, lifting up his knees a little to dig his heels into the mattress, and he matches her rhythm as she fucks herself on his cock. His grip tightens on her hips with every downward slide – not to force her down any faster, though a large part of him demands he do just that, but as an outlet for the feeling of need tearing through him. ]
no subject
But she sits up, and the movement punches the breath from him. The sight of her captures her attention for a long while – the cascade of her curls over her shoulders, the curve of her breasts above him. He braces his hands on her thighs, smooths them up to grip her hips. She lifts, nearly drawing away from him entirely (and for a heart-stopping second, he's afraid she plans to do just that), but she lowers herself again, slow and deliberate and torturous.
He lets out a low sound, lifting up his knees a little to dig his heels into the mattress, and he matches her rhythm as she fucks herself on his cock. His grip tightens on her hips with every downward slide – not to force her down any faster, though a large part of him demands he do just that, but as an outlet for the feeling of need tearing through him. ]