She sneezes when the brush teases her nose, causing her to accidentally inhale the compact powder that is being put on her face by the make-up artist, final touch to her current appearance, the appearance that she doesn't seem to like very much since the clothing, or should she say the lack of it, makes her feel a little bit uncomfortable. She's wearing only a flimsy, transparent robe that she's supposed to take off for the scene anyway, and thus get naked in front of him which causes her to shiver any time she recalls the thought in her head.
Why is she even so worried, so concern about the whole thing? He's probably seen many actresses undressing for their roles, and she was naked on the set before, so what's the point here?
She takes one last deep breath, one last attempt to calm her rapid heartbeat, before she leaves the room, stepping to the newly arranged bedroom. He's already here, sitting on the edge of the mattress, talking to the director, both of them burst into laughter at some point, but all of the conversations die when they notice her standing by the door.
"Action!" The shout snaps her out of the trance, reminding her that she has to stay professional and ignore the fact that one of the most gorgeous men she has ever seen, is going to see her naked.
She's more than aware that he can see her body through the robe almost perfectly, and it's obvious that he's staring at her as she slowly approaches him, swaying her hips mildly, just like always. He frowns, utterly disgusted because of the drooling cameraman who is giving his sweet girl the greediest look he's ever seen, as if he was undressing her with his eyes. Well, no wonder he does, she looks delicious indeed, but why he even called her 'his sweet girl', since they are just co-workers, nothing more. He's been trying to ask her out for some time, but he feels like she's been avoiding him, because any time he starts a conversation, she apologises for being in hurry, and walks away before he gets a chance to convince her to stay.
He's able to see the outlines of her nipples perfectly, pink and erect, attached to the pair of perfectly round breasts, and he catches himself thinking that he would love to squeeze them until she mewls his name - well, this is actually pathetic, and he has to stop before he gets too worked up, but he's not sure whether he's really able to stop it at this point.
He frowns when he notices the silver ring glinting on her left nipple; the piercing had to be painful as fuck, there are no other words to describe it.
The way he's staring at her causes a new wave of heat to pool in her lower stomach, letting her feel that she's wet, maybe not totally soaked, but wetter than usually, which is not a good sign at all, but he won't notice, if she's super careful - at least she hopes so.
As soon as she stops in front of him, he gently takes her hand and pulls her down on his lap, all according to the scenario, making her gasp, like for real, when their crotches press together, the cotton material of his boxers rubs her tingling clit lightly. He can feel her perfectly through the thin layer, hot and wet, and he fights the urge to moan out, since that would be...well, definitely inappropriate, but he can deny himself all of the pleasure of being in these particular circumstances with her.
"You're wet," he whispers into her ear, carefully, so that no one can hear him, and she shivers - that was definitely not his line; oh my fuck, that was definitely not his line...
He flashes her a quick teasing smirk, very much aware of her current state - she looks flushed, she wants him, truly wants him, which makes his mind, and other certain parts of his body, dizzy with desire. She watches his face for a small amount of time, feeling how his chest is heaving in time with the taken breaths, gasping when he slides the gown down her arms, exposing the heated skin to the cool air, making her shiver when the clothing falls down on the floor.
He takes a sharp inhale when his eyes take in the image of her bare body, stopping at the two round breasts that are pressing lightly to his torso. He can't help but think how much he would like to run his hands up her chest, touch them, tease her nipples, watch her squirm on his lap due to the gentle caress. The truth is that he's always fancied her breasts, and she has no idea how turned on he got when he saw the script for today's scene.
"Tammy," he groans, now sticking to the scenario which makes her oddly disappointed, since she would love to hear him say her name, not the name of some stupid made-up character, but the lustful glint in his eyes can't be faked, right? "Fuck, baby, I want you."
"I want you too," she whimpers (who the fuck made up that line?), before she leans in, pressing her soft lips to his, taking his breath away for a brief moment. She melts into his embrace, forgetting about the cameras, the staff, the director, forgetting about anything but how good it feels to be kissed by Johnny.
She's so caught up in the moment that she doesn't hear the director shouting "cut!" since her mind is currently occupied by his soft lips brushing her, leaving her stomach tingling with desire, but luckily he brings her back to reality by departing their lips softly.
"That was quite something," he whispers into her ear once more, making her gasp when she feels her how breath fanning over the side of her neck.
"Indeed it was."
* * *
She can't sleep, she's just lying and staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours, tossing and turning from side to side. She's already tried every possible position, had warm shower, went for a short walk, even drank a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing helped to put her to sleep.
She groans in frustration, rolling on the other side, before she gets up, and walks out of the dusty room to the line on connected balconies, typical for the cheap motels. Who even stays here except for her, a bunch of teenagers (not that she's much older than them) who rather run away from home or want to make sure that their parents won't interrupt their sex, which leads us to the last type of visitor - a man with a prostitute; God, she hates that place.
"Fabienne?" She hears a male voice coming from her right, and almost screams, clearly startled, since she hasn't expected to meet anyone outside, especially in the middle of the night, but the tone appears somehow familiar to her, so she looks to the side, greeted by the sight of no other man than Johnny, the cause of her sleepless torture.
"Johnny? What the fuck are you doing here?" She asks, looking at him with a puzzled expression written across her pale face.
"Can't sleep," he shrugs his shoulders, taking another drag from the newly lighted cigarette.
"Me neither," she sighs heavily, before she repeats her previous question, still greedy to hear the answer. "But what are you doing in the motel?"
"Just staying here, what else can you do in a motel?" He asks with a dash of sarcasm in his voice, making the girl roll her eyes.
"Oh c'mon, no one stays here, except for the bunch of teenagers or men with prostitutes," she says, flashing him the infamous 'oh-you-can't-be-serious' look.
"So we are categorized as nobody? I'll keep that in mind," he replies with yet another sarcastic comment; he seems frustrated for some reason, but she can't figure out the cause which she finds equally frustrating.
"Why are you so..." she needs a moment to think about the right word to describe what's currently on her mind, but he doesn't seem to care.
"So what?" He snarls all of sudden, accidentally spitting out his cigarette on the pavement due to the rapid action, startling the girl beside him.
"So...tensed," she almost whispers, staring directly into his eyes, the intensity of the look makes him shiver involuntary. "And don't even try to deny it. Just tell me what's wrong."
He sighs heavily, running a hand through his messy hair, before he actually speaks, this time his tone appears to be calm and mild for her. "Just man stuff, nothing important."
"Of course it's important, since it occupies your mind so much that you cannot fall asleep," she tries to convince him again, curious about the cause of his current mood.
"It's nothing, really," he cuts, wanting to end up the conversation right here, since he can't tell her the truth, it would be embarrassing at least, plus she would probably reject him anyway... so what's the point here?
"Fine, if you say so," she finally gives up, letting him keep the truth to himself, but she has a slight suspect that he will tell her sooner or later.
Both of them remain silent for a while, just enjoying the chilly night, staring at the bright neon sign that says 'lotus motel' - what a terrible name, she thinks, before she looks aside, meeting his piercing, dark eyes. The pink light hits his face from the certain angle, emphasizing the high cheekbones along with the hollowed cheeks and sharp jawline, making him look almost like some kind of mystical creature - isn't it a bit odd?
"What are you looking at?" He asks, his voice somehow fades in the distance, joining the police sirens and drunken shouts - Los Angeles is such a wonderful city.
"Nothing," she smiles slightly, looking back at the 'lotus' neon sign which is now missing the letter 's'; seems like everything is broken here. "God, I'm freezing."
"Come here," he lifts his arm from the railing, making some room for her to step closer to his body, which she gladly accepts, snuggling to his side, letting him embrace her.
"Oh my God, you're so warm," she practically moans, pressing even closer to him, searching for more of the pleasant heat. The sound she makes, causes him to shiver as a wave of new desire washes through his body, and he literally fights the urge to bend her over the railing and fuck her roughly from behind; she has no idea how much he wants her right now.
"Johnny?" She says shyly, dropping her sight to the ground as a bashful blush spreads over her cheeks, but luckily he's not able to see it because of the pink neon light that illuminates her face. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go on, love," he replies, in one hand silently pleading Fabienne to ask him to take her any way he wants in that sweet voice of hers, but in other hand he's afraid that she might actually do it, and that would kill him, not literally though; he's never been so sexually frustrated in his whole life, torn between holding his temper and letting his fantasies take over his mind.
"Can we go to your room?" She asks, and he swears that he's just felt his dick swell in the tightness of the boxers; oh my fuck, is it really happening? "We could watch the movie or just talk, since we won't probably fall asleep either way."
"Well," he clears his throat, before resuming. "I don't think there's anything sensible to watch in the middle of the night."
"So that leaves us with the second option," she smiles briefly, getting out of his embrace, waiting for him to lead her to the room.
"Not that I mind though," he copies her smile, taking her hand into his, making the girl shiver at the contact of his heated skin upon her cold one, gently pulling her to the nearest door, before he pushes them open, and lets her inside.
She flops down on the bed, since there's no spare couch to sit on, and he joins her there. It takes both of them a few moments to get comfy underneath the blanket with their backs supported on the headboard, and not longer after he has her snuggled close to him with her head in the crook of his neck.
"It really meant something to me," she breaks the silence, making him frown in confusion; she can't be up to it, can she? "You know, the kiss."
This is when he actually chokes on the air, since she can't be serious, she just can't be, like what the fuck?
"What?" He asks, a bit dazed but only for a split second, then the smug smirk paints over his handsome face, the lusful glint in his eyes is also back as soon as he looks down to meet her nervous, yet curious gaze. "You mean the way my underwear was rubbing your soaked cunt?"
She gasps in shock, looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth forms in an o-shape, bringing the lewdest thoughts to his mind; he couldn't just have said that, right? "You didn't," she only manages to utter.
"Oh c'mon honey, there's no point in lying since both of us know the truth," he murmurs, using that deep voice of his that causes her insides to flutter with lust, probably knowing the affect it has on her anyway.
"Then enlighten me, what's the truth?" She teases, fighting the urge to taste the skin of his perfectly exposed neck - let's save it for later.
"The truth is that you've wanted me since the first time you laid your eyes on me," he admits without a single hesitation - what a cheeky bastard.
"The same thing can be said about you," she murmurs under her breath, whispering the words into his ear, the sexy purr wipes the last bits of self-control and causes him to drown deep in lust, letting it take over his senses, his mind, his whole being. He wants to take her right now, right here, on the cheap bed in the dirty motel room with thin walls, making her scream his name so loud that anyone in here will know to whom she belongs.
He wastes no time in pulling her to straddle him; wow, that escalated kinda quickly, she thinks, taking in the sight of his flushed face, eyes wide, laced with desire, and all he's doing is staring at her, so shamelessly, as if he knew she's already wet, even though he barely touched her, as if he knew about her hunger, her cravings, her fantasies. She feels naked, bare in front of him, but she loves the burning gaze upon her heated skin, the way he looks at her makes her feel as if she was the only woman in the world, wondering how come he's made her this horny without doing anything.
"Johnny," she moans urgently, as she slowly begins to rub herself into his body, taking a sharp inhale at the feeling of the material rubbing her tingling pussy. "Touch me, please."
Without waiting for the confirmation, she takes his hand and drags it between her legs, making him gasp when his fingers contact with the wet mark. He teases her entrance through the panties, knowing that the friction caused by the thin cotton is driving her crazy - he can feel her tightening the grip around his arms, so he moves up, tracing the slit with his index finger, stoping once he reaches the tiny, swollen nub that longs for attention. She lets out another needy moan, arching a little bit to his touch, her lips parting slightly, and eyes closing in bliss - the animalistic need to be filled up appears as intoxicating, burning, painful, but also sweet, neverending torture.
"Touch me," she repeats more demandingly this time, but even thought it's foolish to believe he will obey, he makes an exception for her to his own surprise, and lets his hand slip into her panties, gasping when they introduce with the generous amount of slickness.
She feels nice indeed, velvety, warm and totally soaked against the pads of his fingers as he uses them to brush her slit just barely, feather-likely almost, tickling the frustrated girl who is currently trying to hump his hand like a needy bitch, like a needy bitch she is.
"Tell me," he presses down on the clit, making her release a pitchy squeal. "Who's made you this wet?"
"You made me this wet," she answers, barely able to make up a simple sentence, the only word that keeps banging in her head is the simplest, most predictable 'fuck'. "Please, I can't."
"Can't what, sugar?" He smirks, watching her writhing on his lap, silently begging him to release her from the torture, but he doesn't find that particular thing satisfying enough, he wants her to say it, to admit how bad she wants him, how bad she needs him.
"Can't take it," she whimpers, on the edge of crying out of the sexual frustration, out of the desperate need to be fucked, she's so ridiculously sensitive at this point that even the slightest touches send shivers down her spine.
"What am I supposed to do then?" He asks, deciding to drag this game for a little longer until she will agree to do literally anything to get the treat.
"First take off my panties," she somehow manages to regain her composure, but she knows it won't take long until she looses it completely. "Then take me, take me exactly as you please."
Without a word, he hooks his fingers in the elastic waist band of her panties, silently signaling the girl to lift up, and as soon as she does so, he removes them completely, dropping them on the floor afterwards, her shirt following right after.
"Show me how you like it," he murmurs, dragging his tongue over the shell of her ear, making Fabienne whimper his name in such a needy way that it breaks something within him, releasing something almost primal, animalistic, sinister even, which would normally scare him, but not now, not when he's so fixated on fucking the precious girl that has been on his mind for quite a while.
He wants to fuck her, like roughly, to hear her sweet moans, quiet gasps, desperate begs, since the only thing that occupies him mind now is how tight, how wet, how warm, and most of all how good she will feel around him, because she certainly will, there's no doubt about it.
"You know how I do," she says, and for once she's right - he knows it perfectly.
She whines when he finally drags his fingers up and down her slit, circling her clit slowly at first, then building up the pace, until he has her writhing on his lap, rubbing against his hand in a desperate need to get herself off, and he watches her, fascinated by the way her breasts sway from side to side, accompanying the sensual movements, her skin soaked in the pink light from the outside, making it almost glow - she's so pretty.
He feels her leaking on his palm as he smears the juices on her inner thighs, teasing the girl a little bit, enjoying her moaning his name a couple of times, begging him to touch her again, and soon he slides his fingers between her legs again, this time slipping two of them inside, making her squeal both because the stinging stretching and final relief that washes over her.
"Turn around," he orders, wanting to make her get into a bit more comfortable position, since he can feel her arms trembling with effort of holding herself up straight. She, without any questions, does as he asks her to, settling herself between his slightly spread legs, his hand soon finds its place back between her thighs, and she leans back, laying her head on his chest, arching to his touch, her eyelids falling shut.
"Love," he whispers, his raspy voice sending chills down her spine. "Open your eyes."
She forces herself to do it, and her breath hitches when she looks straight ahead where a huge mirror is standing by the wall, taking in the sight of her bare body covered in the thin layer of sweat, shaking thighs, and mostly his hand tucked between them, pleasuring her; but that was before their eyes meet through the mirror. He looks at her, the eye contact never breaking as his other hand moves up, caressing the side of her breast, before moving up to her pierced nipple, pinching and twisting the hardening nub until she yelps in pain and grabs his forearm, the urge to squeeze something appears when he hits the one particular spot inside her that makes the girl shiver in bliss.
She can feel his hardness poking her back, and the thought that it's because of her, only for her, causes a new wave of heat to wash through her body, a new amount of wetness to leak on his fingers.
"Look at you," he groans, their eyes still locked through the mirror, when she starts to grind her hips, applying pressure on his throbbing dick - she has no idea how much he wants to fuck her right now.
"You're making such mess here. I bet you've never been this wet, am I right?" She nods, but he doesn't need her confirmation, which only fuels his obscene part of personality, now on full display. "You're such a needy bitch, aren't you Fabienne? I was always wondering if you were touching yourself, imagining that I was the one pleasuring you. Tell me, sugar."
She can't utter a word after his little speech, blushing like crazy due to the feeling of exposure and embarrassment, bashfully dropping her sight, not able to answer him.
"Sweetie, there's nothing to be ashamed of," he encourages her, despite knowing the truth, but he wants her to say it, and she's more than aware of that, so she looks up again, meeting his dark eyes.
"Yes I was," she admits almost innocently, but both of them know she's far from innocent.
"Doing what?" He raises a single brow, not even bothering to hide the smug smirk dancing upon his lips - what a cheeky bastard.
"Touching myself, imagining that you were the one pleasuring me," she finishes without a single hesitation, as if she was challenging him which is true at some point.
She's about to say something, but before she gets a chance to continue, he tugs her head back by the hair, joining their lips for a bruising kiss, tongues lapping hungrily at each other. She whimpers, sound muffled by his greedy mouth, long nails scratching his forearm, digging into his skin, surely leaving bruises, but he doesn't care, since the only thing that occupies his mind now is to make her cum.
He rubs the swollen nub in fast, harsh circles, still using his other fingers to tease her inner walls, and the combination of both sends her over the edge. She moans, bucking her hips like crazy as the orgasm washes through her body in hot, powerful waves, leaving her gasping for air, tossing from side to side with her eyes closed.
He caresses her pulsing folds for a little while, waiting for her to come down, before he removes his hand from its previous place, bringing it up to his lips to lick it clean from any traces of the arousal. He laps up at his fingers, savoring the taste in his mouth, with his other arm wrapped around the girl's waist, the girl who is currently curled up on his lap, nuzzling her head into his shoulder, already exhausted from her previous orgasm, which is nothing compering to what awaits her.
Her thighs are slick with arousal, her clit sore, her mind dizzy, already anticipating for more, for much much more...
Suddenly he motions her to move over, and she whines, clutching tighter onto his shirt, hugging his arm, trying to force him to stay, but he doesn't seem to care when he lifts her from his lap, setting the girl aside.
"Where are you going?" She asks, gently taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together, and he glances at Fabienne, before he lets her go, making the girl pout adorably.
"Nowhere," he shrugs his shoulder, flashing her a small smile. "Just getting rid of my clothes, since they might get in the way, you know."
She can't help but look away, as she feels her cheeks burning again that night; how come she literaly just orgasmed in front of him, and blushes because she will see him naked? Weird.
He slowly removes his T-shirt, dropping it on the floor where it joins her clothing, underwear following right after, leaving himself exposed to her praying eyes, giving her a few seconds to take in the image of his bare body - he looks stunning iluminated by the neon light, even though she can't see most of the details in the dim light.
He wastes no time in joining her, the mattress dips slightly because of his weight as he does so, and pulls her to straddle him, resting his hands on her round hips, pressing their crotches together. They moan in unison when his dick slides between her folds, getting engulfed by her heat pleasantly, applying a little bit of friction to her swollen clit.
"Johnny," she mewls, already willing to be filled up, her inner walls tensing uncomfortably around nothing. "I need you inside."
"I know you do," he smirks, eyes glinting with lust, as he reaches to brush his finger over her clit, making her let out a quiet gasp. "You're soaked."
But the truth is that he needs to be inside her too, like right, fucking now, and he isn't sure if he can wait any longer, so he grabs her by the shoulder, yanking her to the side, and rolls on top of her slim body, smirking when she squeals in surprise.
He looks at her, searching for a silent confirmation in her eyes that are now huge and teary, and she nods her head slightly, begging him to take her right here, right now.
He can sense her need, desperate and vulnerable, so decides to stop teasing her, and lines himself with the entrance, sliding in one, rapid movement that takes her breath away for a brief moment. She cries in pain, as a few hot tears leak from the corners of her eyes, disappearing in the mass of hair scattered over the pillow.
He feels her pulsing around him, squeezing him tightly enough that he has to fight the urge to let go, since it would be... well, embarrassing at least, forasmuch he's not a teenager anymore.
He gives her a few seconds to recover from the uncomfortable stinging, before he withdraws almost all the way, only to slams back in roughly, making her scream his name and dig her nails into his back, leaving red welts as she drags them down. He hisses through gritted teeth, closing his eyes, and nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, licking and biting at her heated skin, until she starts trembling violently, moaning louder, gripping tighter.
She wraps her legs around his taut waist, moving them higher and lower, until she finds a perfect angle for him to reach deeper inside her, giving him perfect opportunity to hit all those spots that make her shiver in bliss.
"Johnny," she moans, arching her back from the hard mattress, throwing her breasts up in the air, and he watches them, mesmerized by the barely noticeable bounce. "Please, harder."
"Legs up my shoulders," he orders simply, but the proposition scares her somehow which he can easily tell by the confused look she gives him. "Trust me, it's gonna feel really good."
Hesitantly, she unwraps her legs from his waist, sighing contently, as he runs his hands up and down her bare calves in a soothing manner, before she actually let him help her to place them over his shoulders. She bites her lip, shutting her eyes tightly as she feels him brushing a newfound spot inside her, a spot that she's not known about until now, so sensitive that even the slightest touch leaves her body tingling deliciously.
She mindlessly crosses her legs at the ankles, her nails raking down his chest ever so lightly which is driving him crazy, and he can't help but close his eyes, letting himself drown deeper in all those little sensations he's receiving from her, starting with the scratching and ending up with her pussy gripping him tightly - almost too much to handle.
Suddenly he moves inside her, the exact same movement he made before, but it feels so different now, it feels... heavenly. She lets out a particular reedy feminine whine, the one that makes him groan deeply right after, without even realizing it, the sound causes her skin to heat up even more - he sounds so, so... incredibly erotic.
He takes a firm hold on her shoulders to steady himself, clutching the flesh with a little bit more force than intended, but neither of them care or notice, since the pain only intensifies her experiences.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, his face adorned in a look of utter bliss, all because of her, which she finds almost equally ravishing as sex. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted to have you like this, spread out for me, and so wet, so fucking wet, you have no idea, no fucking idea, I-"
He interrupts himself with a husky growl, probably loud enough to be heard in the contiguous rooms, let alone the banging of the headboard on the cheap motel wall, that almost becomes the cause of knocking out the equally cheap and ugly picture which is hanging there.
She's close, so close that she can practically taste it, and he knows it perfectly, so he decides to speed up the process a little bit, since he obviously wants her to be the first to reach her height.
He praises her, telling her how tight she is, how good she makes him feel, how close he is, and she can't help but release a moan that has been bubbling in her throat for a little while, which combained with his thumb rubbing her swollen clit, sends her over the edge one more time that night. She cries out his name as her orgasm rips through her so hard that she looses her breath, and the way her pussy grips his throbbing dick turns out to be enough for him to reach his own height, his mouth falls open in a silent scream of desire, his muscles tensing as he gives her a few more sloppy thrusts, before he pulls out slowly, making both of them let out a sharp hiss.
He rolls over to the side, leaving her cold on her side of the bed, but she's too weak to join him since her muscles feel wobbly, some of them even burning, and she's not sure whether she's able to get up by now - probably not.
He just lays there with one arm tucked under his head, trying to catch his breath, body soaked in early sunlight from the dawn, shining due to the thin layer of sweat, the welts on his back stinging uncomfortably as the material applies a little bit of pressure to them, so he rolls onto his side, supporting his head on the left hand, so that he's able to watch her.
He gently strokes up and down her stomach, making the girl mewl sweetly, as his hand travels up her chest and between her breasts, watching how they rise and fall in time with her breaths, before he moves up, noticing the bruised neck and cleavage, along with her shoulders, pussy probably sore, and he can't help but somehow feel sorry for her, but she obviously doesn't think about it that way.
Abruptly she changes the position to lie on her side, letting him spoon her from behind, engulfing herself in his pleasant heat, nearly moaning at how good it feels.
"Let's take a day off today," he murmurs into her hair, his hot breath ticklish yet pleasant upon her skin.
"Yeah, let's take a day off," she insists, already fond of the idea, because damn, just imagine that - a whole day with Johnny in his motel room doing God knows what...
"Good," he mutters, smile audible in his voice. "I'll call them later."
"No you won't," she shakes her head involuntary, stealing a glance on his hand draped loosely around her waist.
"No I won't, but they can fire me, I don't care," he smirks, just thinking about how much money it would require to remake the whole film with a different actor - they won't fire him, it's impossible...well, at least in these particular circumstances.
"Johnny?" she asks abruptly, the way she speaks his name implies as if she was about to say something serious, which somehow makes him feel a little bit anxious. "Where's the blanket?"
"Oh my fuck," he sighs in relief. "I thought you were gonna say that I've hurt you or something."
"What?" She giggles. "Of course not, unless you won't give me the blanket."
As soon as she repeats her request, he tugs at the covers, pulling them atop their cool bodies, grazing his fingers over her thigh lingeringly as he does so, causing the girl to shiver due to the gentle touch upon her skin.
"Better?" He asks, before placing a soft kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.
"Better," she mumbles, closing her eyes and letting him embrace her from behind again. "Thank you Johnny."
"For what?" He barely whispers, voice groggy with sleep which somehow makes her smile - he's so cute when he's tired.
"For everything," she replies dream-likely, tenderly, but also sleepily, since she's exhausted too.
"My pleasure," he teases, making her giggle like a teenager, which he finds completely and utterly adorable, even though the girlish sound she's just made causes her to cringe involuntary.
"Sure it's yours," she mocks in a playful tone, rolling her eyes at him, even though he can't really see it.
"So you weren't enjoying yourself, sugar?" He whispers into her ear, using that deep voice of his that makes her heart beat faster and her body heat up - oh my God, what is he doing to her?
"In fact I was enjoying myself very much, so I guess the pleasure is mine too," she gives in, since well... who would resist someone like him? "But I'm tired, or should I say exhausted, and since I would-"
"You mean goodnight?"
"Yeah," she chuckles. "But I didn't want to interrupt the conversation so rudely, and-"
"It's okay, love," his lips curve into a smile against her skin, letting her feel it perfectly. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she answers, which turns out to be the last word shared between the lovers, before both of them drift into one of the most peaceful and carefree sleeps they have ever experienced...
