[The truth is she does like the instruction. Part of that may be the naïveté of it all, the newness that means she doesn’t know how to move on her own, but even without that, his words are firm, given in such a direct manner that there is no question. She likes that, nothing to misconstrue. She might be primed for it as well, but she has been instructed for so long, in the ways a lady sits, acts, dresses, and how she must hold her posture and angle her wrists when she plays. It isn’t a surprise to her that she responds so very reactive when he tells her what to do.
Even when she does already wish to beg at how very slow he moves, fingers moving lower and over her mound. She inhales, lips parting. Two fingers part her, sliding down her lips. Francesca can feel just how slick she is now. ‘Aroused’, that is what he called it. And she truly is, but it is nothing to the near blinding pleasure that thrums through her when he rubs over her clit.
She whimpers, one hand clutching at his arm. It isn’t to stop him, but of shock before he tells her to move her hips, and she grinds back to repeat that sensation. Eyes close as her body presses against him as she moves, thinking of it all at once. The way he feels, the way he envelops her, touches her, commands her, and the low sound of his voice that makes yet another noise slip from her pretty, pink lips.
And she is sure now. This is pleasure. It is the most perfect feeling. She does not need love, she thinks, if she has this.]
no subject
Even when she does already wish to beg at how very slow he moves, fingers moving lower and over her mound. She inhales, lips parting. Two fingers part her, sliding down her lips. Francesca can feel just how slick she is now. ‘Aroused’, that is what he called it. And she truly is, but it is nothing to the near blinding pleasure that thrums through her when he rubs over her clit.
She whimpers, one hand clutching at his arm. It isn’t to stop him, but of shock before he tells her to move her hips, and she grinds back to repeat that sensation. Eyes close as her body presses against him as she moves, thinking of it all at once. The way he feels, the way he envelops her, touches her, commands her, and the low sound of his voice that makes yet another noise slip from her pretty, pink lips.
And she is sure now. This is pleasure. It is the most perfect feeling. She does not need love, she thinks, if she has this.]