If she wasn't being good, doing as she's told, she'd reach back to touch him in some sort of reassurance. She knows he's worrying about one thing or another.
"Slowly, like with your finger... you won't hurt me."
She wouldn't hesitate to tell him to stop, if so, but she knows the mere fact that it could happen at all would ruin the man's whole day.
Clive looks down at the head of his cock pressed snugly against her, and the resistance strikes the sensitive skin in a way his calluses don’t allow. He swallows his breath and steels himself to press forward… but doesn’t. He adjusts course, pressing into her cunt instead with only a soft groan.
He folds himself over her as he presses deep, his fingers still working her clit. He imagines he can feel her disappointment through her skin, so he just kisses the back of her neck, burying his nose in her hair.
“I desire you in every way a man can,” he murmurs.
She groans, back arching , hips pressing into him.
"I want you to have me in whatever way you want. You know how happy that makes me," she reminds him. He's always so focused on her. A lovely thing, but also disappointing when she wants to see him find as much pleasure as she does.
He nods against her, rutting into her harder and harder, his free hand grasping the headboard too so he doesn’t knock her face against it. His brows knit tightly.
She still hears him. It's only a confirmation of what she knows is on his mind.
"I have so much to give. You could never take too much, my love," she murmurs, and her hand moves along the bedframe to bump into one of his. "You've never come close."
Rutting away at her for the second time tonight feels overwhelmingly good even without her speaking tenderly, and he briefly wishes he had four more arms so he could paw at every part of her. Her breasts, her mouth, her hips, all of it. He could cling to her and hold her close forever.
He shifts his grip on the headboard to clasp his hand over hers, fingers curling tight around hers. And then, with a gasp, he comes in her, pressing forward and deep, weight bearing down on her.
He takes his hand off hers just to wrap it around her waist and pull her into his lap as he sits back, keeping her snugly on his cock. He buries his face in the crook of her neck.
“I am happy,” he promises. “Please don’t ever think otherwise.”
Maneuvering her without slipping from her is a dream: he lifts her and turns her so he might at least hold her like a bride, but his cock slips out in the process, already softening. It doesn’t matter. Holding her is more important, as kissing her while he fingers her.
She's of a similar mind. She can kiss him and stroke his cheek and smother her moans against his mouth--and she does, particularly when he brings her to a trembling climax in his arms with ease.
"I could never have enough of you," she whispers, burying her face into his neck.
It’s wonderful to hold her through such moments, his heart hammering as feels her come apart. He kisses the side of her head briefly and holds her to his chest.
“It’s a start,” he promises, a sliver of shame in him, but he ignores it. He tips her over and goes with her, snuggling her into their bedding. “I want to know every part of you.”
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After a moment, he pulls his finger out and takes his cock in his fist and lines the head up with her asshole.
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"Slowly, like with your finger... you won't hurt me."
She wouldn't hesitate to tell him to stop, if so, but she knows the mere fact that it could happen at all would ruin the man's whole day.
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"Anything you desire," she reminds him. If he wishes to make a home there, then so be it.
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“I desire you in every way a man can,” he murmurs.
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"I want you to have me in whatever way you want. You know how happy that makes me," she reminds him. He's always so focused on her. A lovely thing, but also disappointing when she wants to see him find as much pleasure as she does.
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“I’ve had you in so many of those ways already…”
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"You could never ask me for too much, Clive. I'm happy to make love with you."
That's what it all is, ultimately, to her. No matter how hard they're fucking or what hole.
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“I don’t want to take too much,” he mutters, barely audible.
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"I have so much to give. You could never take too much, my love," she murmurs, and her hand moves along the bedframe to bump into one of his. "You've never come close."
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He shifts his grip on the headboard to clasp his hand over hers, fingers curling tight around hers. And then, with a gasp, he comes in her, pressing forward and deep, weight bearing down on her.
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"I did as I was told," she says after a moment, smile in her voice. "I hope that pleased you."
Definitely the drive behind his hips.
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“You did,” he murmurs. “I love you, Jill. I wish I could be as good to you as you are to me…”
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"You're perfect, Clive. As long as you're happy."
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“I am happy,” he promises. “Please don’t ever think otherwise.”
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With her hands off the headboard, she reaches back to touch his hair, face tipping towards his. "I'm happy, too."
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“Then will you come again? For me?”
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He knows she likes to be able to look at him, kiss him, as they fuck.
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"I could never have enough of you," she whispers, burying her face into his neck.
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“I will always have more to give,” he promises.
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"I want you to, too. We have a lifetime together," she says, a way of telling him there's no rush. "When you're ready, I'll be willing."
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“It’s like training,” he murmurs. “One does not succeed if one does not try.”
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