His stomach jumps under her hands. He is ticklish, but he can't laugh for the hitch in his breathing and the lines of fire she's painting on his torso.
He half-groans, instead, and sits upright with smooth but careful ease. Keeping her close on his lap, his mouth dips to her throat, and one thumb traces the swell of her breast.
"You tell me," he says, voice low and rough at its edges, catching on her satin-soft skin, "if this goes anywhere you don't want it to."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-07-25 09:21 pm (UTC)He half-groans, instead, and sits upright with smooth but careful ease. Keeping her close on his lap, his mouth dips to her throat, and one thumb traces the swell of her breast.
"You tell me," he says, voice low and rough at its edges, catching on her satin-soft skin, "if this goes anywhere you don't want it to."