[ it's like driving a car; hands at ten and two, one behind her gripping the counter and the other fisted in his hair. she's trying not to pull, but he finger fucks her roughly and it's good, yes, fuck, it's so good. ] Sorry, [ cora says, but she's about the furthest thing from sorry a person can be.
a little pain edges the pleasure, but that's fine. after all, when are the hales not in some sort of anguish or another. she could lose herself a little between rutting against his face and clenching around his fingers. it's a newer feeling, and part of the reason this all feels so good. he's shifting, but she ultimately has no idea what he's doing to himself, if he's enjoying this, if he's having fun.
it's selfish, but she can and would worry about him later. when she's not slinging her knee over his shoulder and moaning loudly into the suffocatingly quiet apartment. ]
no subject
a little pain edges the pleasure, but that's fine. after all, when are the hales not in some sort of anguish or another. she could lose herself a little between rutting against his face and clenching around his fingers. it's a newer feeling, and part of the reason this all feels so good. he's shifting, but she ultimately has no idea what he's doing to himself, if he's enjoying this, if he's having fun.
it's selfish, but she can and would worry about him later. when she's not slinging her knee over his shoulder and moaning loudly into the suffocatingly quiet apartment. ]