I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
Jack's already rock hard, something Raza will find out the second she slips her hand into his pants. With belt and shirts abandoned, there's now a more acceptable amount of skin on show, and the smuggler relishes the heat of her body and the siren song of her mind as she arcs forward. He grinds his hips against hers, intent on amplifying the friction between them, his head tilting to the side to welcome the press of her teeth and lips.
Suddenly moving to hitch her up and onto the bar, he's blessed with a face full of her assets, happily going to work again on the curve of her breasts, the sun-kissed skin of her collarbones. His fingers go to work on the buttons of her pants as well, shucking them down enough that he might pull them off entirely, his kisses dropping lower. Jack can feel her need to be touched, but it's a teasing that's always worth the wait.
Suddenly moving to hitch her up and onto the bar, he's blessed with a face full of her assets, happily going to work again on the curve of her breasts, the sun-kissed skin of her collarbones. His fingers go to work on the buttons of her pants as well, shucking them down enough that he might pull them off entirely, his kisses dropping lower. Jack can feel her need to be touched, but it's a teasing that's always worth the wait.
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
