She has more time to notice, more time to think about each thing, and there is no pretending in the light of day. If she would even want to. She had no idea he would want to play with her so much, lavish her so much. Granted her expectations were set in firm duty and gritty reality. Set up as gently as could be by her ladies, working with the rumours of the brutish warriors, they said it might all be quick and over, and she may not like it, but he would undoubtedly lose interest once it was done.
Not that he would devote himself to just burrowing into her chest, his mouth a brand everywhere it roamed, as if he could never have enough. If someone had told her that a man, let alone her husband, would want to play so much with what was usually just an irritation, or spend so much time doing nothing but kissing her all over, she might have not believed them. She certainly would not have thought it would feel like this, either, her skin on fire, somehow overwhelmed and yet in desperate need of more. All for what - playing kisses?
But sense clearly left, and it's not long until she's writhing below him, her hands alternating between pulling at his hair, or yanking at she sheets under her. Her knees falling open of their own accord, and that wet hot build more obvious now. Her voice a constant stream of little gasps, cries and pants, between each shallow inhale, the lap of his tongue earned the long longer moans, the graze of teeth shocked whines. It had hurt the night before, that she would not think to want it again so quickly. But the touch makes her forget what it had been, she craved him closer, to lie between her legs again, to chase that strange something from the night before that came with the pressure of his body on hers.
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Not that he would devote himself to just burrowing into her chest, his mouth a brand everywhere it roamed, as if he could never have enough. If someone had told her that a man, let alone her husband, would want to play so much with what was usually just an irritation, or spend so much time doing nothing but kissing her all over, she might have not believed them. She certainly would not have thought it would feel like this, either, her skin on fire, somehow overwhelmed and yet in desperate need of more. All for what - playing kisses?
But sense clearly left, and it's not long until she's writhing below him, her hands alternating between pulling at his hair, or yanking at she sheets under her. Her knees falling open of their own accord, and that wet hot build more obvious now. Her voice a constant stream of little gasps, cries and pants, between each shallow inhale, the lap of his tongue earned the long longer moans, the graze of teeth shocked whines. It had hurt the night before, that she would not think to want it again so quickly. But the touch makes her forget what it had been, she craved him closer, to lie between her legs again, to chase that strange something from the night before that came with the pressure of his body on hers.