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Evie
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The tremor of his laughter breaks her apart like a fault line. There is no hurt, no disgruntlement at her forwardness, only easy acceptance and a willingness to meet her level of desire. Even the red of his cheeks is charming. “Never doubt how much I want you. Constantly, incessantly,” she murmurs. Filling the space of moments where he conjures protection, trusting him implicitly to do so without ever looking.
Equally without looking, and with both of the Sword’s hands trailing up her hips, Evie’s hands return to the warm weight of his member, guiding it up and against her as she rolls her hips down to meet it. The first shock of penetration makes her tremble; no pain, only the sensitive ache of wanting, one she chases in a downward slide until their hips meet and she is left trembling and breathless atop him. Planting her hands on his chest, she lingers for only a moment - and then lifts herself and slams back down, wanting him with a roaring immediacy. don't let one be you |
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