[Skip gives a quiet groan against his lips at the squeeze he offered. She arched up a little and then sank down. Her hands slid between them. One set of fingers unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zip while the other moved down inside of them.
Her nails applied a very light pressure from right in the centre of his hips and down, stopping briefly at the first feel of hair below them.]
[James' breath leaves him in a strangled noise as her fingertips carve a path through what little resolve he had left.
God he just wants her to touch him. A part of him tries to remind himself not to get greedy, to let her dictate the pace because that is what will win her attention quickest of all - so he thinks.
Don't overthink....
Fine.
In a mimic of her own movement, he curls his fingers under the band of her underwear and - even though he can't take them off with her sitting like this - pulls just a little. It's wanting and he doesn't think he could stop kissing her right now even if he wanted to.]
[Skip, however, can stop kissing him. And she does. She pulls her head up to look down at him, arched over as she is. Her lips twist into something akin to a smirk as her fingers further peel the top of his jeans to either side.
Her hand doesn't venture past his underwear again. Instead, it rubs against the raised fabric, stroking the hard length.
What are the man's morals? Is he the type to balk at simple things? Or would he like the idea of getting to have the forbidden fruit?
The thought of telling him (especially if he does let things continue, as almost all of them do) doesn't help her arousal in the slightest. It's a small -- or maybe not so small -- form of rebellion against the arrangement she was born into. One she usually enjoys the advantages of.
She does her best to sound torn.]
There's something I should tell you. [But the way her hand palms him through the fabric is at odds with that tone.] But you might be mad.
[James leans forward when she goes back - as if to chase her. He at least keeps his whine to himself and only leans back against the curve of the sofa under him with half-lidded eyes watching her intently; pupils blown out with lust.
His lips are tingling in the absence of hers and her hand pressing against him makes him want to writhe underneath her. Shouldn't he be the one doing this? It occurs to him briefly but when she speaks, he has to focus entirely on her voice lest he miss what she says completely.]
[His reaction only heats her blood. For a moment, she considers stalling until she can bring him to climax, admit it only after. Maybe if it was her first time, she would. The reactions to that are always fun. Because it's either a major turn on or a major turn off.
She's curious to see which it will be for him.]
Well--
[She applies her nails to the fabric just a bit as she runs them up. Only once she's stopped does she speak, leaning forward to whisper in his ear as her covered breasts press against his chest.]
[Me too, almost leaves him. Almost. It's a damn close thing and he has to employ ever skill in acting he has to look a little disappointed before scraping his teeth with a ghost's touch to the curve of her neck - which she had to know would distract him from everything else - that was presented to him as she whispered in his ear.]
That's nice but -- I don't care.
[He has a feeling she doesn't either. And, right now, that doesn't bother him one bit. He can't focus with the stretch of pale white skin in front of him where her scent is the most overwhelming. At least, above her waist.
The though makes the fingers he has hooked in her panties tug sharply on them before laving his tongue against her neck, wanting so much more.]
[Skip tilts her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to his teeth. A quiet murmur of appreciation leaves her at the feel of it. Because it's primal and all too welcome.
The words are like a good whiskey to her brain, and she rewards them by sliding her hand down his underwear to apply just her palm to the tip of his erection.
When his fingers pull and his tongue is applied to her neck, she groans outright. There are so many things she wants to do to him and even more she wants him to do to her. But one step at a time. Best not to seem too eager right after admitting to being engaged. So, she merely lets her hand stroke him lightly.]
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no subject
Her nails applied a very light pressure from right in the centre of his hips and down, stopping briefly at the first feel of hair below them.]
no subject
God he just wants her to touch him. A part of him tries to remind himself not to get greedy, to let her dictate the pace because that is what will win her attention quickest of all - so he thinks.
Don't overthink....
Fine.
In a mimic of her own movement, he curls his fingers under the band of her underwear and - even though he can't take them off with her sitting like this - pulls just a little. It's wanting and he doesn't think he could stop kissing her right now even if he wanted to.]
slightly late NSFW warning
Her hand doesn't venture past his underwear again. Instead, it rubs against the raised fabric, stroking the hard length.
What are the man's morals? Is he the type to balk at simple things? Or would he like the idea of getting to have the forbidden fruit?
The thought of telling him (especially if he does let things continue, as almost all of them do) doesn't help her arousal in the slightest. It's a small -- or maybe not so small -- form of rebellion against the arrangement she was born into. One she usually enjoys the advantages of.
She does her best to sound torn.]
There's something I should tell you. [But the way her hand palms him through the fabric is at odds with that tone.] But you might be mad.
only slightly
His lips are tingling in the absence of hers and her hand pressing against him makes him want to writhe underneath her. Shouldn't he be the one doing this? It occurs to him briefly but when she speaks, he has to focus entirely on her voice lest he miss what she says completely.]
What's that?
no subject
She's curious to see which it will be for him.]
Well--
[She applies her nails to the fabric just a bit as she runs them up. Only once she's stopped does she speak, leaning forward to whisper in his ear as her covered breasts press against his chest.]
--I'm engaged.
no subject
That's nice but -- I don't care.
[He has a feeling she doesn't either. And, right now, that doesn't bother him one bit. He can't focus with the stretch of pale white skin in front of him where her scent is the most overwhelming. At least, above her waist.
The though makes the fingers he has hooked in her panties tug sharply on them before laving his tongue against her neck, wanting so much more.]
no subject
The words are like a good whiskey to her brain, and she rewards them by sliding her hand down his underwear to apply just her palm to the tip of his erection.
When his fingers pull and his tongue is applied to her neck, she groans outright. There are so many things she wants to do to him and even more she wants him to do to her. But one step at a time. Best not to seem too eager right after admitting to being engaged. So, she merely lets her hand stroke him lightly.]