"I'm not going to be able to stop." The quiet whisper of his finest intentions reaches just behind my ear. A thick finger sliding in and out,
slowly
carefully
without rush
The other hand is underneath my skirt, raising the material up to pool around my waist.
The anticipation sounds out in my breathing.
A rush engulfs me when the pad of his thumb starts to rub into the bundle of nerves that tries to clench my thighs closed. A hissing breath comes out, while my eyes squeeze shut. Pushing my bottom against that greed that has risen solidly makes the musculature of his thighs shift and flex underneath the back of my thighs. He presses himself into me, rolling, rocking those hips that cause his throat to make the barest of noises.
His knees prevent me from shutting my legs. In fact, he spreads his knees a fraction more, giving him extreme access to explore without hindrance, except I still have my panties on.
Fingers grip around his wrist when that thumb applies more rubbing pressure, his index finger hooking slightly inside me, dragging down the inside walls of me.
Groaning out, jaw tensing, back arching out, the back of my head firmly against his chest. The raging beat of his heart is pounding solidly against my shoulder blade. The more he does this to me, the more my ass presses, wiggles naturally against his lap. His own sound is building up in his chest, vibrating with his Wild's dark sounds of pleasure.
Turning my head to the side, Odin's pupils are dilating, consuming, devouring the ancient greens. His body is entirely in motion, through fine muscles quivers that ripple underneath the layering of skin.
The hand that's not between the apex of my legs is rising higher underneath my shirt, fingers feeling between the ribs.
Climbing upwards, he lets the palm of his hand, touch, squeeze, hold my breast. Odin's moan illustrating through the octave of sound how much he appreciates the curve of me. It shakes into the first layers of my skin, trying to tunnel deeper inside me.
The heat of his chest is soaking into my back when he lifts my shirt up and off, his own discarded shirt now lays at his feet.
Skin on skin
A fingertip brushes lightly across the sensitive nipple, over the fabric of my bra. The pores of my body, opening, releasing my scent for him to inhale by a nose that is at the side of my neck.
Teeth scrape flesh
The small vibrations of sound shake the first layers of skin from within his chest. That hand on my breast is teasing the nipple, around the outside of it, only to gently tug on the very end where the nerves are the most receptive. A squeeze between his thumb and index finger, rolling the tender tip around, his breathing becoming harsher to almost match mine.
I'm drowning in the feel of his hands on me, in me, hips shifting, rubbing myself into his hardness Those lips at the back of my neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth. My ears are starting to become fluent with the sound of him, the lone toned moans, the inhaled sigh, with whimpers from his throat when I push hard against his flexing hips.
The finger inside me easily being pushed in and out, not fully just enough for me to understand that he's inside me. Another finger is placed beside the first to cause a groan of discomfort to be released out in a combination of hurtful pleasure. He holds them inside me, stretching my entrance more than I have ever been stretched. He doesn't take them out of me when his other hand goes to the button in his pants. He lifts my bottom up, so I am in a standing position now. His hands off of me, but I still can't think of anything but having those hands back on and inside me.
