The press of her ass against him has his eyes fluttering shut briefly, his grip on her knees tightening as he grinds her against him. He laughs briefly, under his breath.
"It wouldn't have been permitted," he says. "Just the same, some mornings I couldn't look you in the eye, knowing what thoughts had filled my mind..."
He presses in particularly hard, remembering the none-too-distant memory of her hand gliding over his skin, of the way she’ll insist on him splitting her wide and filling her up. He murmurs, near teasing:
He gets a moan out of her, and then--another laugh. Guilty as charged, and she can't deny that.
"It's research," she tells him, and gives his cheek a little pinch. But her thumb smooths over it after, and she the look she gives him is loving. "I like trying new things with you, Clive. Sharing new experiences together."
He loves feeling her slacken, so taken by his cock filling her that she can’t concentrate on anything but. He just smiles, warm in all ways, and tucks her knees up a little tighter so he can reach at a better angle.
He opens his mouth for her, yielding even as he keeps up a relentless, demanding pace. Confident she wants it of him, comfortable to chase his own orgasm knowing it’s what she wants out of him. He kisses her mindlessly, a stifled moan on the back of his throat.
He's perfect. Strong, bold, warm, and loving--distantly, Jill wonders what they're doing, seeing other people when they're capable of this much passion. The thought is quickly derailed when her orgasm creeps up on her, walls throbbing around his cock when he presses particularly deep. She moans into his mouth, kissing him harder, wanting him to join her.
What felt good around his fingers is incomparable here, a far cry from the heat and pulse of her. He needs little other encouragement than that and the press of her lips to tumble over the edge, throbbing inside her.
He spills into her hot and deep and it's just what she wanted, and it feels all the better with her own orgasm trying to draw him deeper. She's a moaning, gasping mess held against him, eyes closed as she savors the moment.
He says something. Something she thinks she must have misheard from the blood rushing in her ears, but she opens her eyes to look at Clive, clear and blue and curious.
What did he say? He knows, but the impulse is not so easily repeated, even buried so deep in her. He draws in a hard breath, gazing at her, love-drunk.
Her eyes search his. It's hard to think when he's still buried inside her, their bodies still twitching. She thinks maybe it best she ignore what she thinks she heard.
He eases up his grip on her knees so he can cup her face, settling to rest inside her, still save for the heave of his breath. He runs his thumb along her cheek.
“Thank you,” he says. “For having me in your life.”
"I know what it is to live a life without you in it," she tells him. She mourned him for years in the Iron Kingdom, hoping that if he did not manage to survive to one day rescue her, that his death was quick. And then, he left to Origin...
"I need you by my side, Clive." Though she can manage. "I want you by my side."
He knows what he said, and looking at her face, he thinks she knows, too. But no matter how desperately — foolishly — he wants her, there’s reason to hesitate.
“I’m here,” he says. “I have no intention of being anywhere else.”
"I could have a thousand years with you and it would never be enough. I won't ever tire of seeing your smile or hearing your voice," she says, but then why does the idea of being man and wife not quite sit well within her heart? It did, once. Once, when the odds were stacked against them.
Aren't they still?
She strokes his cheek with her thumb, looking sad for a moment before she catches herself and pulls up a soft smile for him.
"You are so very special, Clive. I'm grateful for you every day."
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"It's always such a relief when you're inside me, Clive. Does it feel that way for you?"
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"I never seat myself within you without remembering how long I've desired you," he murmurs. "How fortunate I am to live that dream."
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"Not more than me. When I was a little girl I had dreams of marrying you. And then I thought that a life with you was out of reach."
Marriage and all that follows is a nice thought, but now she's simply happy to be in his company. It's enough.
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"It wouldn't have been permitted," he says. "Just the same, some mornings I couldn't look you in the eye, knowing what thoughts had filled my mind..."
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"You've always been sweet, even as a boy. I'm sure my thoughts over the years have been worse."
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"I think you'd put even the wildest philanderer to shame," he says.
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Only some days.
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He presses in particularly hard, remembering the none-too-distant memory of her hand gliding over his skin, of the way she’ll insist on him splitting her wide and filling her up. He murmurs, near teasing:
“I know what you read.”
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"It's research," she tells him, and gives his cheek a little pinch. But her thumb smooths over it after, and she the look she gives him is loving. "I like trying new things with you, Clive. Sharing new experiences together."
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“I’ll keep that in mind for your surprise,” he says, quickening his pace a touch.
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He's such a tease.
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"Clive," she whines. But she can't be all that upset if she's moving to kiss him, tongue parting his lips.
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He gasps: “Marry me.”
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He says something. Something she thinks she must have misheard from the blood rushing in her ears, but she opens her eyes to look at Clive, clear and blue and curious.
"What was that?"
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He says, with untethered sincerity: “I love you.”
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"I love you, too. More than anything..."
But.
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“Thank you,” he says. “For having me in your life.”
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"I need you by my side, Clive." Though she can manage. "I want you by my side."
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“I’m here,” he says. “I have no intention of being anywhere else.”
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Aren't they still?
She strokes his cheek with her thumb, looking sad for a moment before she catches herself and pulls up a soft smile for him.
"You are so very special, Clive. I'm grateful for you every day."
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comment 666 number of the situationship
evil
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