Date: 2018-03-14 07:51 am (UTC)
originallutece: up on the moors (flirt; romance book cover 2.0)
[Her moans only grow louder as his tongue teases over her breasts. Her poor neighbors, and Rosalind spares a vague thought for them, but she can't be bothered to care. She doesn't even know them, and none of them are proper refugees, so they're really too petty to worry about. Her knees draw in, locking in on his hips, as she drops down hard on his cock.]

L-like that-- use your teeth--

[You can be rough, and it's not as if he's held back, but she wants to be certain. She isn't made of glass, and she never wants to be treated as such when it comes to the bedroom. Blood and bruises, scratches and bites . . . her bloodying his lip was only a preview.

Her hands brace on his shoulders, her nails digging in as she picks up the pace. But oh, no-- she love the way his tongue flits over her, but she hasn't forgotten their fight. One hand darts up, raking through his hair and gripping it tightly, forcing his head back so she can stare down at him, watching every flicker in his expression.]
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ᴊᴀᴍɪᴇ "ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ" ғʀᴀsᴇʀ

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