Etta Russell (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} funeral_bell) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 20somethings, |
The sound that came out of her was half way between a groan and whimper. The stupid old joke about saving a broom and riding a quidditch player kept going around in her head and frankly it was sounding like a thing that needed to happen more by the second. She moulded herself to his front and grabbed his hand, pulling it down to her arse.
"I want you," she said, leaning into his ear so she didn't have to scream it. "I'm so wet I don't think I should sit down in this dress anymore." She wanted him to know what he was doing to her. She tilted her head back to look in his eyes, before leaning up that little bit to kiss him.