[His nails drag down her thighs, leaving behind a set of scratches that sting and leave her gasping in pleasure-- never mind when he grabs her ass. That leaves her eager; she squirms just to feel him tighten his grip, delighting in the way he leaves her ass stinging (and oh, someday they'll surely play with that; she still hasn't forgotten the way he'd alluded to spanking her all those weeks ago, but one thing at a time). His nails have grown long again, more claws than nails, and that ought to scare her, it ought to terrify her, but Rosalind moans, dripping into his mouth as another wave of arousal hits her. She can't be damned to be anything but turned on by the way he continuously vacillates between something more human and something more animal.
It's not fair, he's not fair-- his tongue drags over her entrance and Rosalind wails, thrusting her hips forward shamelessly, desperate for him to fill her. Even his fingers (even with those claws, but she's hardly thinking of that) would do; she can so perfectly imagine it, two fingers forcing their way forward, curling in her, stretching wide and getting her ready to take him, and she wants it badly enough she's ready to all but beg him for it.
But no. In a moment his tongue slips upwards, and though she's still aching to be filled, she can't deny this is better. Hotter, as his teeth roughly scrape against her and his lips wrap tight around her clit. Her head tips back, her eyes closing tightly as she drops her fingers out of her mouth and runs them over herself.
She's long since given up on trying to keep silent. Perhaps she'll get a noise complaint tomorrow, but that's for a future Rosalind to worry about. This one right here is far too preoccupied with how fucking good he feels, how utterly hot each stroke of his tongue leaves her, lifting her up and leaving her gasping and jerking. Her hips jerk forward again and again, thrusting and grinding against him, each movement growing more erratic as she chases her finish.
And oh, there it is, and her head snaps back, her body arching off the couch as it hits her hard. There, just like that, and she finds her voice a moment later, moaning jaggedly at each throbbing wave, thrusting her hips forward once, twice, three times, until at last it leaves her and she slumps back on the couch.
And that would be perfect, it really would, except he doesn't pull back. He keeps sucking at her, his tongue flicking up teasingly against her clit, and Rosalind jerks, her toes curling. Heated overstimulation quickly replaces pleasure, overwhelming her, leaving her gasping and squirming within an instant.]
Bigby-- Bigby, I c-can't--
[It's urgently said, and she yanks at his hair, trying to force his mouth back. It's not that she doesn't want a second orgasm, but not right on the tails of her first, she can't possibly-- a minute, that's all she needs, and yet he's not stopping, and she writhes against him, trying to pull back and scramble away.]
what a time to be alive
It's not fair, he's not fair-- his tongue drags over her entrance and Rosalind wails, thrusting her hips forward shamelessly, desperate for him to fill her. Even his fingers (even with those claws, but she's hardly thinking of that) would do; she can so perfectly imagine it, two fingers forcing their way forward, curling in her, stretching wide and getting her ready to take him, and she wants it badly enough she's ready to all but beg him for it.
But no. In a moment his tongue slips upwards, and though she's still aching to be filled, she can't deny this is better. Hotter, as his teeth roughly scrape against her and his lips wrap tight around her clit. Her head tips back, her eyes closing tightly as she drops her fingers out of her mouth and runs them over herself.
She's long since given up on trying to keep silent. Perhaps she'll get a noise complaint tomorrow, but that's for a future Rosalind to worry about. This one right here is far too preoccupied with how fucking good he feels, how utterly hot each stroke of his tongue leaves her, lifting her up and leaving her gasping and jerking. Her hips jerk forward again and again, thrusting and grinding against him, each movement growing more erratic as she chases her finish.
And oh, there it is, and her head snaps back, her body arching off the couch as it hits her hard. There, just like that, and she finds her voice a moment later, moaning jaggedly at each throbbing wave, thrusting her hips forward once, twice, three times, until at last it leaves her and she slumps back on the couch.
And that would be perfect, it really would, except he doesn't pull back. He keeps sucking at her, his tongue flicking up teasingly against her clit, and Rosalind jerks, her toes curling. Heated overstimulation quickly replaces pleasure, overwhelming her, leaving her gasping and squirming within an instant.]
Bigby-- Bigby, I c-can't--
[It's urgently said, and she yanks at his hair, trying to force his mouth back. It's not that she doesn't want a second orgasm, but not right on the tails of her first, she can't possibly-- a minute, that's all she needs, and yet he's not stopping, and she writhes against him, trying to pull back and scramble away.]