His eyes flutter shut as she grinds against him, his grip on her tightening again, and then he's had enough of teasing.
"Do you remember when I had you on your side, and I took you with one leg up?" Fuck if he remembers what it was called. "The one in your book? Do you remember how deep I was inside of you?"
He's already sitting up with her still in his lap, ready to bowl her over.
He sits up, and she's using the opportunity to find the bottom of his shirt and start pulling it up off him. When she meets his eyes, hers are full of mischievous delight.
"No, why, I don't believe I recall at all..."
She does. She does so much she feels an ache for him already.
He helps her lift his shirt, taking his hands off her just long enough to drag it over his head, rumpling his already perpetually messy hair even more.
"I'll remind you, then," he says, tossing his shirt aimlessly and then tipping her over onto her back. He flips her skirt up and drags her panties down.
She goes with a small squeak of laughter--she may tease him about his size, but she adores being manhandled by him. A wiggle of her hips as she helps get her panties down, though she's distracted by running her hand down Clive's stomach.
"I like this, too," she says. "All your big muscle."
He tosses her panties aside, too, and he to his fly next. His cock is a prominent ridge in his jeans, obvious from a mile, and he takes himself out without preamble.
Looking down at her delicate little hand on his cock in broad daylight feels obscene, but that’s a rich thought from a man eager to stuff it into her. He smiles, letting her have her moment, and then he gets a hand behind her knee to lift.
"That it does," he agrees, hitching up her leg to throw her calf over his shoulder as he moves in close, straddling her other thigh. "Better I move up here than you downstairs."
As if her moving downstairs was ever on the table.
What a view she has of him. Her reply is delayed as she looks him over, all muscle and scars and spots she wants to press her mouth against. At least she looks to his face when she does speak.
"I think I knew you would be here eventually." Just not exactly when.
Her sureness is touching, and his own view is inspiring: her pale leg extended along the length of his chest, her bare sex exposed and glistening amidst the fan of her skirt. He smiles down at her, and because he cannot fold her in two to kiss her, he rubs his cheek against her ankle and ducks his head just enough to press a kiss to her calf. He shifts in; the head of his cock bumps her slit.
"Watching you with a hammer and nails might make be ample entertainment for rainy afternoon," he says, and with her guidance he presses into her, slower than he usually would. He wants to watch her face, even if the thick head of his cock might fight that initial resistance longer.
Touching herself is still something strangely embarrassing, but she rubs her clit as he presses in, eager to have him fill her. But when she realizes he is going particularly slow, she looks at him with amusement.
"You tease," she laughs, cheeks flushed. "You should know how immediately I want to beg when you do that."
She won't. She enjoys it herself, the slow stretch of her body taking in his length. She enjoys it all.
"I would never make you beg," he says, sinking into her about halfway before he starts drawing back out, a wet smear that has him pressing back in further. "Just anticipate."
She sighs, patience tested while feeling the satisfaction of him inside her.
"Anticipation would see me begging, too." She bites her lip before letting herself laugh. And the hesitation is there before she deems it safe enough to admit, quietly:
He's not sure how to take that, at first, just looking down at her with concentration frozen on his face. He does not want to think of her with other men any more than she does him with other women, particularly not while inside of her, though he certainly feels more resigned to it than anything. But she must feel safe to confess such a thing, if she's saying it at all: he swallows his breath and nods. He can let himself feel proud of that.
"No man deserves to see you beg," he says, pressing in to the hilt.
She worries, for a moment, that she's said too much. That they ever got involved with others was a mistake and a sign of how low they both were. She only hopes he understands that her heart will always want him.
"Only you," she says on a moan. He's all she could want. "You deserve my love and my desire."
She'll say it over and over until he can't doubt it.
“You wouldn’t give it to me if I wasn’t worthy,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he pulls out and sinks in again, every inch of hot pressure a treat. Is she right to? Another matter entirely. “If you begged me, I’d never have the heart to deny you.”
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It makes him feel selfish as all hell, but damn if it isn't a little hot, too.
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"You are the perfect size," she says, near to a purr. She gives a press of her groin against said bulge. "I like that I must strain to contain you."
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"Do you remember when I had you on your side, and I took you with one leg up?" Fuck if he remembers what it was called. "The one in your book? Do you remember how deep I was inside of you?"
He's already sitting up with her still in his lap, ready to bowl her over.
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"No, why, I don't believe I recall at all..."
She does. She does so much she feels an ache for him already.
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"I'll remind you, then," he says, tossing his shirt aimlessly and then tipping her over onto her back. He flips her skirt up and drags her panties down.
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"I like this, too," she says. "All your big muscle."
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“Is there any part of me that isn’t big?”
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“Roll onto your side, my love,” he says.
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"This bed creaks less," she points out wryly. Not to mention the solid walls.
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As if her moving downstairs was ever on the table.
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"I think I knew you would be here eventually." Just not exactly when.
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"I'd hoped for it."
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Jill reaches down to help guide him to her--and to touch him some more.
"You're lucky I haven't boarded up the basement yet," she laughs.
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"You tease," she laughs, cheeks flushed. "You should know how immediately I want to beg when you do that."
She won't. She enjoys it herself, the slow stretch of her body taking in his length. She enjoys it all.
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"Anticipation would see me begging, too." She bites her lip before letting herself laugh. And the hesitation is there before she deems it safe enough to admit, quietly:
"I'm only like this with you."
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"No man deserves to see you beg," he says, pressing in to the hilt.
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"Only you," she says on a moan. He's all she could want. "You deserve my love and my desire."
She'll say it over and over until he can't doubt it.
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Let it pickle
BABE WE CANT
“If such a place existed, it would surely be within you.”
JUST SAY YOU WANT A DIVORCE
DOES THAT MEAN WE’RE MARRIED
YES 🥹
YAY 🥹
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jill remembering this later like nvm
im already takin notes for later
that's my girl
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