Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
WOULD YOU WANT ME MORE? [He fights fire with fire. Water's never been nothing he considers.] I couldn't want you fuckin' MORE, ¿sabes? [But, she's saying it ain't her fault she's a fuck-up and she never hid it.] Lo sé—I never asked to be one either—[She fights against his fingers, but it ain't like she's scared. If she was, he'd stop. Immediate. He'd drop his touch. She fights, stubborn, and he holds on, earning that one squirma hers over his cock—and taking it with a greedy groan—, but wanting more.
He thinks he's gonna get more. He's ready. But she comes closer, pink lips pearling open by his ear. And the sounda her voice like that—fuck lilacs, huh? It's all the roughnessa cloves and sweat, and goosebumps lift along burning skin, down Cris' arms, up his neck and throat. He pants some, breath upticking when she starts talking again, and he's trying real hard not to just swallow, which has gotta be the equivalenta showing your belly.—But the lathea her tongue over the shella his ear gets a shudder outta the guy, a spike up his spine and down to his cock that he can't quash. He hasn't been flaccid since she sat on his lap the first time, but by now Cris figures his cock's hard enough to cut glass, and that thin filma nylon between them is just enough to be too fucking much.
If she's going for seductive or not, it don't matter, 'cause the guy's practically done for. He's onea the most competitive people, bloodthirsty and ruthless in the face of a challenge, but when she pulls back, straining against his grip on gold, and she grins—Cris hates his fucking knee. He can't move easy. He can't lift his ass and pull his damn pants down easy, and it's like a physical pain. He aches, 'cause he can't fuck her.—Pero, it's the 'baby' that does it. He's about to cave to her—three days in the bed, and his imagination is already running with that—, but he opens his eyes, not realizing he'd closed 'em, and he gaze is loaded.] Ay, chica... [He drags the cutta teeth over the swella Sam's throat, rocking his hips to hers as he does so.] Debes estar muy confundida. [His voice is like blade dragging over bone.—He sucks where her pulse pounds, tasting salt on her skin. Still holding Sam's head back, he licks along her jaw, 'til his mouth is hovering over hers. He grinds his cock into her cunt as he stares at her, lashes lidded low.] I ain't your gringo.