[ Her giggles are like improbable music, a glittery valse. It matches the way he's waltzing her delicately backwards toward their bedroom, one hand laddering under her blouse to palm the warm swell of her breast, to thumb circles across the nipple, while the other one cups the curve of her ass, practically lifting her so she's plastered against him, a full-body press. Doesn't matter that she is rotund and deliciously meaty, a muscly girl-fighter. In his arms she always feels like a curling lightness, a beautiful wet feather clinging to skin. ]
[ He barely notices when the bag tips over. His mouth is buried in her neck, gnawing at the pulse that thumps so gloriously hard there. But at the fluttery sound of her Oops, he detaches to regard the spilled contents: a foamy filigree of lace. A dress? Lingerie? ]
What's that?
[ A dark curiosity thrums through him, his eyes smoky but interested. ]
no subject
[ He barely notices when the bag tips over. His mouth is buried in her neck, gnawing at the pulse that thumps so gloriously hard there. But at the fluttery sound of her Oops, he detaches to regard the spilled contents: a foamy filigree of lace. A dress? Lingerie? ]
What's that?
[ A dark curiosity thrums through him, his eyes smoky but interested. ]