( she calls him needy, as though she is not the very cause of it all — the near-tingling in his palms, the dryness in his throat, the neediness that tightens within him, holds onto him like a vice, begs for release. in another time, he might laugh, but this feeling that's overtaken him — this scenario they've played out — doesn't allow it now.
instead, his free hand, far too impatient for him to resist any longer what with the thing he desires most quite literally within his gasp, kneads the curve of her ass with his palm, fingers dipping beneath the thin lace that hardly covers her. he thinks he might indulge in what she asked for through text, but for her little comment —
index finger and thumb pinch together, hard enough to leave a faint mark later, though smaller than whatever he'll later inflict upon her, teeth catching his lower lip for a moment before he chides: ) I already told you — I ain't playing around tonight, mama.
( her bedroom, as dimly lit as the rest of the apartment, which suits them in this moment, he thinks. there's no hesitation before he sits on the edge of her bed, repositions her across his lap where she'll surely feel the fruits of her effort, hard and pressing. one hand brushes her hair over her shoulder so he can really look at her, as absolutely fucking gorgeous as he remembers, fingers idly carding through her hair, as slow as the hand that gently caresses both of her ass cheeks, fingers flexing against her skin every now and again, like foreshadowing of what's to come. )
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instead, his free hand, far too impatient for him to resist any longer what with the thing he desires most quite literally within his gasp, kneads the curve of her ass with his palm, fingers dipping beneath the thin lace that hardly covers her. he thinks he might indulge in what she asked for through text, but for her little comment —
index finger and thumb pinch together, hard enough to leave a faint mark later, though smaller than whatever he'll later inflict upon her, teeth catching his lower lip for a moment before he chides: ) I already told you — I ain't playing around tonight, mama.
( her bedroom, as dimly lit as the rest of the apartment, which suits them in this moment, he thinks. there's no hesitation before he sits on the edge of her bed, repositions her across his lap where she'll surely feel the fruits of her effort, hard and pressing. one hand brushes her hair over her shoulder so he can really look at her, as absolutely fucking gorgeous as he remembers, fingers idly carding through her hair, as slow as the hand that gently caresses both of her ass cheeks, fingers flexing against her skin every now and again, like foreshadowing of what's to come. )
You made me wait a long fucking time, baby girl.