He isn't sure what he would have done if she'd argued it. Luckily, he doesn't have to ponder it.
There’s an electric urgency to his hands, and they fly to the neckline of the back of her dress. The seam taken between both hands, he grips and pulls in repeated sharp motions, ripping the dress open and exposing her back. There had been intent; it was one reason he’d asked her to wear white, to give him that skin to help her shed. Now she’s a black sheep, always just a bit outside. In the moment though, that symbolism isn’t active in his mind.
Once he has it open to her waist, he curls in so he can run his tongue up her spine in one long stroke. His hands wriggle under the rest of the fabric as he eagerly seeks the warmth of her. When confident enough of positioning, one hand darts up to catch her by the jaw, shoving her head away to expose the soft skin of her throat.
He’d wanted this since that day in the shower. The image played through in his mind so many times, it’s practically imprinted as a memory before it's even happened. As such, he doesn’t need any time to calculate placement.
His mouth finds her, his teeth sink hard and tight. There’s a fleeting moment before he pulls back as he thrusts in.
Sweet. Holy. Fuck.
It’d been worth it. Every ache and squirm and frustrated breath. Having her now, in this one act, it was worth it.
Then there’s only primal want. His bite is unyielding. Just because he can’t readily break the skin doesn’t mean it won’t look like he did. When the skin’s pulled back as far as it will allow, he holds it a moment longer before releasing her, his thrusts never slowing.
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He isn't sure what he would have done if she'd argued it. Luckily, he doesn't have to ponder it.
There’s an electric urgency to his hands, and they fly to the neckline of the back of her dress. The seam taken between both hands, he grips and pulls in repeated sharp motions, ripping the dress open and exposing her back. There had been intent; it was one reason he’d asked her to wear white, to give him that skin to help her shed. Now she’s a black sheep, always just a bit outside. In the moment though, that symbolism isn’t active in his mind.
Once he has it open to her waist, he curls in so he can run his tongue up her spine in one long stroke. His hands wriggle under the rest of the fabric as he eagerly seeks the warmth of her. When confident enough of positioning, one hand darts up to catch her by the jaw, shoving her head away to expose the soft skin of her throat.
He’d wanted this since that day in the shower. The image played through in his mind so many times, it’s practically imprinted as a memory before it's even happened. As such, he doesn’t need any time to calculate placement.
His mouth finds her, his teeth sink hard and tight. There’s a fleeting moment before he pulls back as he thrusts in.
Sweet. Holy. Fuck.
It’d been worth it. Every ache and squirm and frustrated breath. Having her now, in this one act, it was worth it.
Then there’s only primal want. His bite is unyielding. Just because he can’t readily break the skin doesn’t mean it won’t look like he did. When the skin’s pulled back as far as it will allow, he holds it a moment longer before releasing her, his thrusts never slowing.