He grips my hips, pulling me
closer for I can no longer meet
his thrusts. I fight every impulse
to surrender, and yet he tortures me,
just slightly slipping his hardness
between my folds, his thumb circling
my wetness between each excruciatingly
slow thrust. I know he waits for me to
beg “please” to tumble from my
lips, before he speeds it up, until
we are a tangle of breaths and
limbs, and murmurs of release.
*Combined 2 prompts for #NaughtyNovemberNoir
16: A thin line between lust & obsession
17: Tangled limbs and breaths
Love the intensity of this. It draws you in so completely. Great work on this.
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