[He can't grasp the words he needs to to describe her - ethereal in nature, yet so carnally tempting that he can feel the sweat bead on his brow and the fire in his gut. He wants to flip them over, to fuck into her with reckless abandon, but half the infuriating pleasure right now is the wait. It's in letting her move, feeling her roll her hips - working him in and out of her, teasing him with the tight heat of her hole and making him loll back his head with a heady sigh.
He's thinking about kneading her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles by the bend of her knees - knowing if he could hold on, he would - if only because he let go, he wouldn't be sure what else to do with himself. But his wrists are still clearly, most definitively held down so he can't do anything but think of how he'd slowly creep one palm up her front, tracing the inward curve of her thigh if he could. He daydreams of it while his eyes are on hers - locked and entranced.]
I want - yeah, I want more. Make a mess of me, Cel. Please.
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He's thinking about kneading her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles by the bend of her knees - knowing if he could hold on, he would - if only because he let go, he wouldn't be sure what else to do with himself. But his wrists are still clearly, most definitively held down so he can't do anything but think of how he'd slowly creep one palm up her front, tracing the inward curve of her thigh if he could. He daydreams of it while his eyes are on hers - locked and entranced.]
I want - yeah, I want more. Make a mess of me, Cel. Please.