Sweeney urges her gently back on the grass, not yielding the superior position, though he not climb on top of her. He rolls on his side and props his head up on his elbow, that he might look down her.
One fingertip traces a slow path from the dip of her throat towards her navel.
"Is breá liom teagmháil a dhéanamh le do chraiceann."
His eyes linger on his had as it takes its sweet time.
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Sweeney urges her gently back on the grass, not yielding the superior position, though he not climb on top of her. He rolls on his side and props his head up on his elbow, that he might look down her.
One fingertip traces a slow path from the dip of her throat towards her navel.
"Is breá liom teagmháil a dhéanamh le do chraiceann."
His eyes linger on his had as it takes its sweet time.
"I love to touch your skin."