Date: 2009-02-26 04:42 am (UTC)
hell_in_highheels: (tangled up together)
She is wet to the touch, musky to his nose, blood warm and slick against his fingertips. He knows the moment he's found her pearl, that eager little bit of flesh standing up for his caress, as she shudders and moans.

Her hips stutter in their dance. Her body can't decide which way to push for more attention. He can feel her pulsing around him in concert with his touches, her head pressed tight against his shoulder. She is trembling on the razor's edge, hanging on his every breath.
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River Song

November 2009

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