"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.”
“I am cared for enough by your side,” he assures her, and he unhooks her calf from his chest and shifts her leg aside so he can lean overtop her instead, weight on one hand. He keeps thrusting. “You give all the protection I need.”
It's like he knows. He must be able to tell, by the look in her eyes, that she wants him closer. It's only a little bit of a twist to push herself up enough to be able to meet him for a kiss. It's sloppier than she'd like, a moan on her breath, but she manages to land it on his mouth.
"Then it's good I always intend to be by your side."
She always wants him closer. He keeps fucking her, mouth just off hers when they aren't kissing, his weight on one hand. He brushes her hand away from her clit with the other: he can do that too.
It just frees her hand to touch him, roam over his arm and shoulder and back. She steals kisses between breaths and feels the pleasure begin to build. He knows her.
"You're always good to me," she tells him. And she can say that easily now that the past is further behind them.
“I want to be,” he murmurs, and he feels the faintest bit dizzy, looking down at her as she touches him, as he feels her, as he grinds the pad of his thumb in hard circles around her clit. Steady, sure. “Inside you, it’s all a man could want to be…”
It's a lovely thought. He's the only man she could ever imagine wanting so desperately, and she's fairly certain that has something to do with how easily he brings her to completion.
She comes with a quiet gasp, fingers curling in his hair. She's less gentle, knowing he likes it, though it's a brief thing with how the jolts of pleasure make her limbs feel heavy.
"Clive," is all she says. Was there more to the sentence? Possibly, but she looks at him with adoration, so he might be able to guess it to be some expression of love.
He eases off her clit when she comes, choosing to just hold her instead, still buried inside her. His scalp tingles and he’s still as hard as a rock, but he’s give up riding a high in an instant just to witness hers.
Few things feel better than her body squeezing around his cock. She smiles at him. He read her mind.
"I love you too, Clive. Will you fight me overmuch if I insist on focusing on your pleasure now?" She asks, teasing. And yet there's a sincere question in there.
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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
"How fortunate would I be to be able to offer you such a haven," she murmurs.
DOES THAT MEAN WE’RE MARRIED
YES 🥹
"Then it's good I always intend to be by your side."
YAY 🥹
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"You're always good to me," she tells him. And she can say that easily now that the past is further behind them.
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She comes with a quiet gasp, fingers curling in his hair. She's less gentle, knowing he likes it, though it's a brief thing with how the jolts of pleasure make her limbs feel heavy.
"Clive," is all she says. Was there more to the sentence? Possibly, but she looks at him with adoration, so he might be able to guess it to be some expression of love.
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“I love you,” he murmurs.
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"I love you too, Clive. Will you fight me overmuch if I insist on focusing on your pleasure now?" She asks, teasing. And yet there's a sincere question in there.
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jill remembering this later like nvm
im already takin notes for later
that's my girl
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