He turned her again.
Spoon — his chest at her back, her back against his front, her top leg hooked over his hip, his cock entering from behind and below, the angle finding the front wall of her and pressing upward in long rocking thrusts that were slower than before. Deeper. The rolling grind of it.
His mouth came to the back of her neck.
He kissed her there. Actually kissed her — the deliberate press of lips against the nape of her neck, against the silver-blonde hair, against the warm skin beneath it.
The sound she made was different from all the other sounds.
Smaller. Quieter. Not the overwhelmed vocalizations of a body being handled — something more specific. The sound of a thing that had been waiting to be treated with that particular quality and had not expected it in this room, in this circumstance, from this person.
"'Mmhhhh~...'" Soft. The vine barely needed to do anything.
PAH. PAH.
Slow.
