( the implication that he was gentle with her might, in any other circumstance, draw forth another bout of laughter. instead, her own sweet laugh rings through the air and she rises to her knees, all but slinks over to him and swings a leg over him like she owns him; rene knows that she's dead serious, that she wouldn't be nearly as gentle. the thought makes his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, as though in anticipation.
hell, she still might have the chance tonight, if she has her way — as evident by the way she all but challenges him to more. he's still recovering from round one, breath still shallow and heart thudding in his chest, and lil mama over here is ready for round two, which is breathtakingly sexy.
it's clear that as much as he knows how to push isabelle's buttons, she's far more well-versed in pushing his than he could've ever anticipated. her fingertip glides over his skin, dips lower with each word that passes her lips, and the small shudder that runs through him is entirely involuntary, muscles of his stomach contracting beneath her touch. dios. every little thing now, after all that, has him feeling oversensitive and needy.
that's to say nothing about how completely intoxicating it is to watch her cast that hoodie aside with one fluid motion, exposing more of her smooth skin to him, black ink dancing over her skin and dipping between the swell of her breasts. she affords him a moment of awe before she presses flush against him, her breath soft against his skin as her lips — until the nip of teeth, enough to stir a groan from low in his throat.
as spent as he is, isabelle brings out something within him that he's not sure he knew existed within himself. it makes him want more, want her. his palms itch to touch her and he reaches to grab her ass, give a little squeeze against marks likely still reddened from his hand. a reminder, maybe, or perhaps just an attempt to reclaim even a tiny bit of control in the midst of how much she's making his goddamn head spin right now. )
Why don't you show me what you got, then, hermosa.
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hell, she still might have the chance tonight, if she has her way — as evident by the way she all but challenges him to more. he's still recovering from round one, breath still shallow and heart thudding in his chest, and lil mama over here is ready for round two, which is breathtakingly sexy.
it's clear that as much as he knows how to push isabelle's buttons, she's far more well-versed in pushing his than he could've ever anticipated. her fingertip glides over his skin, dips lower with each word that passes her lips, and the small shudder that runs through him is entirely involuntary, muscles of his stomach contracting beneath her touch. dios. every little thing now, after all that, has him feeling oversensitive and needy.
that's to say nothing about how completely intoxicating it is to watch her cast that hoodie aside with one fluid motion, exposing more of her smooth skin to him, black ink dancing over her skin and dipping between the swell of her breasts. she affords him a moment of awe before she presses flush against him, her breath soft against his skin as her lips — until the nip of teeth, enough to stir a groan from low in his throat.
as spent as he is, isabelle brings out something within him that he's not sure he knew existed within himself. it makes him want more, want her. his palms itch to touch her and he reaches to grab her ass, give a little squeeze against marks likely still reddened from his hand. a reminder, maybe, or perhaps just an attempt to reclaim even a tiny bit of control in the midst of how much she's making his goddamn head spin right now. )
Why don't you show me what you got, then, hermosa.