lady_bols | Room 6620, Afternoon

There can be no doubt at all about how much he wants it, not if the way he kisses her is anything to go by. It's soft, yes, but hungry too; slow but with an edge of excitement compounded by his hand stroking up and down her ribs. He knows she wants some distance from this morning's conversation, so he's got no expectations. But that doesn't mean he won't touch if she'll let him. There's something magnetic about her body, probably from all this time spent wondering what it would feel like.

Well, now he doesn't have to wonder any more, and it's magic.

It's a wonder to be able to touch. Her hands begin a gentle exploration, mapping the now familiar territory of his face, fingertips marking the line of his jaw, playing along his sideburns, around the shell of his ear. His kiss is intoxicating, and she's lingers for a long while, enjoying this new way of conversing with him.

Eventually, she finds herself nuzzling his chin, and her mouth strays to the sensitive skin of his neck, wet kisses trailing down to his pulse, tasting him in another way. More uncharted territory, and the quiet sounds he's making spur her on.

He knew this was going to end up painful. It'd be nice to be able to stop himself getting hard, so as to keep this easy. He's sure he's managed it with any number of women. Simply kissing doesn't normally have this effect on him.

But she's started on his neck, and that's practically impossible to resist. Still, he just eases his lower half back a bit and concentrates on the feel of her lips instead, shutting his eyes when the arousal starts to flare and heat him from the inside out.

His hand moves up from her ribs, and takes her breast instead. Far nicer, and if she's going to play outside the boundaries of 'canoodling', then he is too. He fondles gently, stroking along the soft underside and teasing the nipple hard with his thumb.

He reckons she'll tell him to stop if she wants to.

He shifts away and takes her breast, and she misunderstands, arching back to offer herself up to him. The robe slips down over her shoulders and there is a soft exhalation of breath at the touch of his hand on bare skin.

Her definition of canoodling may be a bit broader than his. She watches him through hooded eyes, safe expectations and overwhelming desire warring under her skin.

Christ. Offering herself up on a platter, and while hanging out of her dressing gown too. He's got a thing for mucking around half-dressed, and Sergeant Rock gains an degree or two of rigidity just looking at her.

'Mmm,' he says, because that seems a good enough level of coherency before he slides down, and nuzzles the soft rise of her tits. He presses a soft, wet kiss between them, breathing a bit harder as his mouth replaces his fingers, licking and sucking so gently on the soft skin on the underneath of one.

She wants to spend the afternoon letting him do this, that's just fine with him.

It's easy to close her eyes and give herself over to this. He's so gentle, seeking out and finding her sweet spots with an uncanny accuracy. She's content to stroke his head, biting her lip to stifle the quiet moans his kisses are evoking.

'There, just...' He kisses her sternum and her breath shudders, her hands gripping a bit tighter.

Edited 2012-07-16 15:37 (UTC)

'There?'

He moves back between them, kissing a line up the valley and then back down again, because he's not going to relinquish this without a struggle. What's better than having your face buried between a beautiful woman's beautiful tits?

He wouldn't call himself accurate. Simply that he can't stay away from breasts, and he's rarely got any complaints from indulging his desire to play. His mouth does stray a bit lower as well, onto the top of her stomach, while his hand slips under her robe to her bum. If she's going to lie facing him, it's just the easiest place to put it.

Yeah. That's the reason.

His arm slips around her and she melts against him again, like it's the most natural thing in the world. His breath sends a wave of sensation over her skin and her head falls back, her eyes closed. He wants to play, and she just wants to drown in his touch, let it wash away all the horror and despair of the last few weeks.

'Question is, Bols...'

His words are punctuated by kisses, wet and hot, pulling at her soft skin. But he does look up, waggling his eyebrows a bit even though she won't see with her eyes closed.

'...where else d'you like to be kissed?'

His mouth brushes her stomach, just a little lower than before.

'Or where else am I allowed to kiss?'

'Oh god...' That's hardly fair, asking questions between kisses, making her writhe to feel the next one.

'Anywhere, anywhere you want. Just don't stop, please.'

As if she could refuse him now. She lifts her head, wanting to see his face, wanting to watch, her hands touching him wherever she can reach.

Edited 2012-07-16 19:28 (UTC)

He chuckles, and nuzzles between her breasts again as he pushes a little bit, rolling her until she's on her back. With permission like that, he's not going to hold back.

'Well then,' he's kissing a line down her stomach, 'you just lie still.'

He doesn't stop when he gets to the tie on her dressing gown, or undo it. He just pauses, and pulls the two sides of the gown apart so she's exposed. His breath hitches as he pushes her legs open too, but he trusts she won't hold that against him.

She could no more lie still than she could stop breathing. His hands move over the curve of her hips, and she's already opening to him, her head falling back and a quiet stream of appreciative profanity falling from her lips. Her inner thigh takes over from her hands, needing as much skin to skin contact as she can manage. She's not even aware she's wearing a robe any longer.

All she feels is the heat of his touch, the soft wetness of his mouth on her belly, ghosting over puckered skin marking the scar he gave her. There's a dull throbbing between her legs, and it's driving her spare, waiting for the next kiss, the next caress.

'Gene...'

'Mmm.'

He sounds highly amused. Highly. He only stops when he's exactly where he wants to be, placing a kiss on her mound, right above her clit.

''Course,' he says, conversationally, and pulls back a little bit, 'I don' think this counts as canoodlin'. You sure you want me to...?'

Her hands skim up her body and she hugs herself, every muscle in her body vibrating with anticipation. At the question, she lets out a quiet laugh, instinctively pulling her thighs together. Which does her no good at all, as he's firmly between her legs now.

'You told me to tell you when you're being a bastard?' Her voice is high and tight with arousal. 'Well, you're being a bastard, love. Right this very instant.'

Has she treated him so cruelly to deserve this torture? No, no she thinks not.

'Nah, I'm not.'

He grins, and extends his tongue, looking up the length of her body as he pushes into her folds, licking ever so gently over the top of her clit.

'I reckon you love it.'

The moment she feels his breath, feels that sweet kiss right where she's aching the most, her head presses back into the pillows, her hands splay on the mattress, and she arches so hard, her shoulders come off the bed.

She's slick and hot, hard as a pearl, and every pass of his tongue sends a lick of fire through her entire body, making her gasp and jerk. She's been aching since this morning, aching for him to touch her since she first crossed the threshold of the bar, but this is almost too much. And it's perfect, even if she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.

He's dreamed of her in any number of positions, any number of scenarios - clothes on, clothes off, half-dressed, in public, in bed, on the car bonnet...never once did she respond with this kind of instant reaction. It takes his breath away a bit, but only makes him want it more.

He teases slowly, swirling the firm, wet end of his tongue over that sweet nub, and then relaxing, stroking loose and soft. The smell of her excitement makes the pressure between his legs ache to the point of pain, but he shuts it out. He's determined to make this good for her.

The firmest of his attentions makes her go rigid with tension, eyes scrunched shut, breath held as she focuses entirely on that single point of bliss. With his soft kisses in counterpoint, she sags, gasping for breath, moaning, her hands fisting in the sheets.

Her body responds, just as surely and obviously as his does, warm honey flowing freely. She lifts her hips to press against his mouth, trying to find the rhythm of his teasing, but it's not there yet. Coherent thought is not an option right now. He's fulfilling a long-held fantasy of hers, one she never in a million years thought would happen, and all she can do is lie here and take it.

His eye close when she lifts up; all he can do is keep pressing his tongue where she needs it, drunk on the taste of her and the sound of her moans. He'd been playing when he started, but he never thought she'd respond like this. He braces on one arm and without thinking, brings the other hand up and uses the fingertips to stroke where she's most wet. Never mind her; it makes him groan, because that's what he's been dreaming of, getting in there.

He's finding out all sorts of things about her now. For one, she's very vocal in bed, every new sensation telegraphed back to him in incoherent syllables, breathless cries drawn up from somewhere deep and primal. For another, all it takes is the barest touch to evoke a response, one that shudders through her entire frame.

Her hands stretch over her head to hold onto the edge of the mattress, and she's biting her lip, trying to keep some semblance of composure, but it's impossible. Not with the feel of his voice vibrating against her, and the promise of that teasing fingertip. Another flicker of his tongue, and she might shatter into a thousand pieces.

She gets more than one flicker of his tongue, because he's not stopping for anything. Driving her now, insistent, and he didn't mean for it to go like this but he can't stop himself from slipping his fingers inside of her. She's so wet, and he groans against her, breathless and uncoordinated now, pressing deep and licking fast, knowing she's close.

'Yes yes yes yes yes yes...'

Her body quakes, whatever rhythm she might have grasped lost just as quickly to sensory overload. Her breath stutters and then she holds it, her spine curling as the pleasure takes her. Every long muscle in her body trembles, and when it hits a peak, she gasps, crying out, her cunt gripping him with hard pulses at the point of no return. It feels like she's coming apart, all sense of self obliterated, and all she can do is hold on, trusting him to keep going and not let her go.

His head snaps back when she starts to come, because he has to breathe and he has to see her face. His fingers don't stop pushing but his gaze is fixed on her expression, a flash of triumph exploding in his chest. He didn't fail, and she's just as gorgeous as he thought she'd be when she comes. He couldn't see anything last night; now he has to see everything.

When it feels like the peak is starting to fade, he leans in again and gives her one more kiss, before nuzzling at the base of her abdomen.

That was worth waiting for.

Her hands are shaking when she reaches for him, urging him up her body.

'Come here, love.'

Her body is still rippling with aftershocks, and her breath is loud in her ears.

He grins, and slides up her, pulling his hand free but leaving it resting on the inside of her thigh.

'Forgot to tell you,' he murmurs, pausing at her breasts, 'I'm a whore in the bedroom.'

Well. By the standards of his day, maybe.

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