Summer could hardly form words anymore. With every thrust of his fingers she moaned again, and fine tremors formed in her muscles. From the first sharp crest of her climax he was keeping her riding it, as a wave, and the pleasure was so overwhelming it was almost pain.
Tag Archives: rp: falling fast
She was hazily grateful when he pressed her into the chair, kneeling before her. Her fingers splayed across his scalp, flexing and gripping, before she leaned her head against the back of the chair and cried out, sharply.
She shuddered hard when he touched her. “By the gods, Peredur,” she rasped, Kentish accent thickening and voice breaking on a moan. She clung to him, knees going to water. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but her body burned, and once again she kissed him greedily.
Heart pounding and body burning, Summer shoved herself off Percival’s lap, ignoring his shock. She stripped her skirts off, then swallowed and stepped back close to the knight. Taking his hands, she pulled them around her waist. “Don’t stop,” she breathed.
How was she even supposed to answer that? She had no idea what was normal. “I — I suppose so,” she managed. Maybe the better answer was — she dipped her head and caught at his mouth, trying to show instead of say how good she was with everything he was doing.
“Percival?” Summer whispers, when the silence and stillness have stretched out. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” She shifts back, curling a hand under his chin to tip his face up, eyes dark and frightened instead of shadowed with desire. “I don’t want you to stop.”
”Please,” she breathes. Her hands tremble slightly. “Don’t stop,” her voice shakes as well, breathless, “only tell me what you’re doing … “
She bites her lip, nodding, and strokes a slow finger along his collarbone. “Don’t stop.”
Summer takes a slow breath, feeling her breasts rise against his chest. “Percival.” His hands trace over her skin, and the fine hairs rise behind it, and she shudders. An ache rises up through her, and she reaches up and cups his face, kissing him slow and deep and filling it with all her new passion.
Summer tries to stop the faint whimper that escapes her throat, too late, when he moves his hands to her rear and back. Fingertips dig into his arms, and she forces herself to loosen her grip — not of fear for bruising him, but simply to shift her grip to something else. One hand tangles in the laces of his shirt, pulling at them.
He exhales sharply upon hearing Summer. He takes one hand from her bum to help her with the laces before tentatively pushing up the hem of her shirt. “Is this okay?”
She bites her lip, nodding, and strokes a slow finger along his collarbone. “Don’t stop.”
Muscles under her skin twitch at his touches, half-ticklish and half-pleasant shock. She runs her hands down his arms, abruptly grateful for whatever quirk makes him prefer to be sleeveless, and traces the subtle outlines of muscle with her fingertips. She doesn’t know how to urge him on, except with more kisses, so she presses forward into his kiss. Into the slow sweetness of it, taking the time to explore the way their mouths fit together.
Percival can feel how her muscles reflexively tense, and release, and react wherever his hands go, and finds himself reacting the same way to hers. Whether it’s chickening out or distraction, he gives up on her skirt, instead reaching around and pulling her closer by the arse. Leaving a hand there, he pushes one up her back under her shirt.
Summer tries to stop the faint whimper that escapes her throat, too late, when he moves his hands to her rear and back. Fingertips dig into his arms, and she forces herself to loosen her grip — not of fear for bruising him, but simply to shift her grip to something else. One hand tangles in the laces of his shirt, pulling at them.