Her scent, her taste, her voice rising in a stuttering cry. The way her hands are clinging to his shoulders, the way her legs twine around his waist, all of it, all of it mirrors his pleasure and eagerness back to him. She can't touchtastehearfeel enough of him at this moment.
She can't bite his shoulder (how she wants to), can't lift her head to reach, so she settles for scoring his back with her nails, not caring if she draws blood anymore. This is not a place for polite negotiation of affection. This is not a sweet kiss and a cuddle.
This is where the wildness takes over and she paints her hunger, her desire, her possession in his skin.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2009-05-20 11:40 pm (UTC)She can't bite his shoulder (how she wants to), can't lift her head to reach, so she settles for scoring his back with her nails, not caring if she draws blood anymore. This is not a place for polite negotiation of affection. This is not a sweet kiss and a cuddle.
This is where the wildness takes over and she paints her hunger, her desire, her possession in his skin.