[ She asks airily, greedily rocking her hips back to where they started. The quiet huff that escapes her from the movement and friction seems more genuine than the put upon, deliberately erotic breath from earlier. She doesn't bother craning her head around to see the results of the die, confident that however the chips fall, she'll find a way to wring pleasure out of it. Case in point: ]
You should know that I only do things I enjoy. If I'm having a good time, [ Her eyes flutter down, seeing the other woman's fingers gracing the bend of her knee, laughing a bit to herself. ] Then I don't let anyone take that from me.
[ Sure, maybe she's admitting that she's having fun, but that's obvious, isn't it? From the indulgent, subtle movements of her hips, to the way she rests her weight more heavily over the ridge of her thigh, as if to say I'm not moving. From the way one of her hands snakes from around her neck to lay flat on her sternum, pushing her further into the couch. Dragging further down like a brand. A threat? Or a promise of more, her hands slipping between the fabric wherever she can to feel bare skin. From the way she leans forward until their foreheads touch, her head still tilted down so she can watch the space between them, where they're touching, and what she plans to do with her hand. What can she say... not only is she a narcissist who finds her own body alluring, she likes to watch in general — wants to see this woman's hesitation surge forward to action. ]
Not that you seem particularly opposed. Aha...
[ Only then do her eyes flick forward between the scant space between them, crimson eyes unabashedly meeting hers, if she lets her. ]
no subject
[ She asks airily, greedily rocking her hips back to where they started. The quiet huff that escapes her from the movement and friction seems more genuine than the put upon, deliberately erotic breath from earlier. She doesn't bother craning her head around to see the results of the die, confident that however the chips fall, she'll find a way to wring pleasure out of it. Case in point: ]
You should know that I only do things I enjoy. If I'm having a good time, [ Her eyes flutter down, seeing the other woman's fingers gracing the bend of her knee, laughing a bit to herself. ] Then I don't let anyone take that from me.
[ Sure, maybe she's admitting that she's having fun, but that's obvious, isn't it? From the indulgent, subtle movements of her hips, to the way she rests her weight more heavily over the ridge of her thigh, as if to say I'm not moving. From the way one of her hands snakes from around her neck to lay flat on her sternum, pushing her further into the couch. Dragging further down like a brand. A threat? Or a promise of more, her hands slipping between the fabric wherever she can to feel bare skin. From the way she leans forward until their foreheads touch, her head still tilted down so she can watch the space between them, where they're touching, and what she plans to do with her hand. What can she say... not only is she a narcissist who finds her own body alluring, she likes to watch in general — wants to see this woman's hesitation surge forward to action. ]
Not that you seem particularly opposed. Aha...
[ Only then do her eyes flick forward between the scant space between them, crimson eyes unabashedly meeting hers, if she lets her. ]