Re: Still later
She doesn't care about cold metal, only about what it conceals. What it keeps from her.
No longer. Again she shifts on her lap, rising, her knees on either side of his thighs, then another movement, swift and sure, tugging him down to lie with her on the floor, in that narrow space between the bookcase and the bed. Side by side, her hands pause in her efforts that she may look at him. Admire him. Glory in the sight of his bare chest. Then once more her hands become busy, tugging his jeans down over his hips until he is free.