"Oh, he's eager to be tied up," Jill says, and because she rather this nightgown not suffer the same fate as its predecessor, she tugs the bottom up to expose herself to him.
He chuckles, the rumble in his chest warm as he looks down at her bared pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to touch her, cupping her with one broad palm and stroking her gently.
“For you,” he promises, as he sinks to his knees, just off the bed.
Every part of her body fits so well into his hands. She smiles at him before looking up, towards the headboard, and reaching up to grab another pillow. It gets tucked under her head so she can better see over her propped hips.
"You're handsome," she tells him, "Even when you aren't between my legs."
His broad shoulders spread her thighs wide, and he briefly leans his scarred cheek against her thigh as he kisses the flesh there. He runs his fingers along her lips.
“If it was only between your legs, I’d just have to spend more time there.”
"Don't make me take back what I said," she teases. "Or perhaps I can just say you are most handsome when between my legs."
No bias of course. She thinks he's handsome even when he's in a poor mood or in sore need of a bath. And perhaps it's not just when betwen her legs: it's when he's focused.
He hums his agreement, both hands finding a place on her thighs before pressing a kiss to her mons. He sets upon her with a slow and gentle lick. Focused is easy when he’s been gearing himself up for this all evening. The interruption has just ratcheted that eagerness up.
“Let’s put it from your mind for the time being, then,” he says. Unburden her from needing to think at all. He smiles, which feels unexpected to him, and sets upon his task with enthusiasm —- his grip on her tight, his tongue hungry.
The smile makes all the difference. A few months ago, she thinks the events of the night would leave him too irritated to carry on, let alone with such pleasure. Maybe some things have improved despite her telling herself he hasn't changed much.
Thinking is soon too difficult with his face between her legs and his tongue putting in the work. But she thinks he hardly needs to try very hard to have her breathing hitch and her body squirm, though she tries to remain patient rather than beg for more. But maybe not that patient.
"How many times do you intend for me to finish tonight?" She asks with a laugh. Important information.
He takes her hand when she reaches for his, lacing his fingers tightly with her. Whatever her limit is, he's determined to be the one to find it. Determined to be the one worth finding it with.
He persists. He is relentless and hungry and he wants this for her, and himself too.
She holds his hand tightly, murmuring praises--she hopes he knows that he knows her like no other, that no one else can get her off so quickly, that just the mere thought of him can make her wet.
Her fingers squeeze his again when she comes and it's the only time her eyes close as her head rolls back, momentarily overwhelmed. Just this simple thing with him and she forgets to breathe.
She looks down at those big blue eyes and melts. He's in a good mood, and it makes her heart swell. Jill takes a few moments to admire him before she sits up and brushes his hair away from his face.
He lets her run her fingers through her hair, idly spanning a palm up her thigh. Despite his raging hard-on, he feels calm, content. Soothed, maybe. He has her.
“I thought you were going to make me work for it.”
That hair doesn't exist to be tamed. Jill uses both hands to push through it, smoothing back stubborn black locks that return to where they wish as soon as her fingers move.
"I'm selfish. I want to kiss you and run my hands over your body now," she says, and there's a playful pout on her lips.
Jill scoots to the edge of the bed. It's a nice view from this angle, and she bends down to kiss him, tongue shamelessly passing over his chin. She's helping.
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“For you,” he promises, as he sinks to his knees, just off the bed.
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"You're handsome," she tells him, "Even when you aren't between my legs."
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“If it was only between your legs, I’d just have to spend more time there.”
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No bias of course. She thinks he's handsome even when he's in a poor mood or in sore need of a bath. And perhaps it's not just when betwen her legs: it's when he's focused.
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"I have something for you, later. Don't let me forget."
Tonight's reminded her of it.
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Instead, he murmurs slyly with a brief look up: “Is it rope?”
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As it is, when she makes eye contact with him, she laughs.
"No. But it is something binding," she tells him. "I forget the details of things when your mouth is on me, I'm afraid."
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Thinking is soon too difficult with his face between her legs and his tongue putting in the work. But she thinks he hardly needs to try very hard to have her breathing hitch and her body squirm, though she tries to remain patient rather than beg for more. But maybe not that patient.
"How many times do you intend for me to finish tonight?" She asks with a laugh. Important information.
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“The most you’ll take, less one.”
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Which means no one else has, either.
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He persists. He is relentless and hungry and he wants this for her, and himself too.
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Her fingers squeeze his again when she comes and it's the only time her eyes close as her head rolls back, momentarily overwhelmed. Just this simple thing with him and she forgets to breathe.
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“You’re so beautiful,” he says. Puppy eyes out in full force.
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"I want to tie you up." Keep him for herself.
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“I thought you were going to make me work for it.”
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"I'm selfish. I want to kiss you and run my hands over your body now," she says, and there's a playful pout on her lips.
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A very selfish request.
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“Is that an order?”
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"Take off your clothes." Now it's an order.
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