[Had Charlie noticed Ishmael was so close to climax, he wouldn't have done anything differently. The indignant frustration she spits at him is cute, and the way she tugs his hair is satisfying. Charlie's throat strains as she peels him back, smile still stretched across his lips.]

You didn't. [His fingers drum against her spine, idly pressing into the warmth beneath.] You kissed my ear, touched my thigh, and... [He jostles his knee beneath her - careful not to bump anything too sensitive - to provide unnecessary specificity.]

The game's askin' for four. I'm supposed to kiss your chest. [With no effort to dislodge his scalp from her grasp, Charlie nods towards the dice.] You gotta roll one more time after that. [She'd lost count - and he's all too pleased to remind her that she's not rid of him yet.

A fact that's delighting him more than the promise of pressing his lips into her soft skin. It's a near thing, though. He'd been enjoying the feeling of her chest against his cheek before she'd yanked him away.]