[ The mirror has long been forgotten by Harley. She's far too wrapped up in the lust that's taking over her body and consciousness in wave after wave. It softens her other thoughts--of the other people she's met here and whether or not they know Carver and whether or not this will change any dynamics.
She doubts it, though. She either knows or is pretty certain that everyone she's slept with here has already slept with someone else, and most likely someone else that she also knows. It's just seemed to work out that way. But that isn't what she's focusing on any longer; not with Carver tipping his head just so as she breaks the kiss. She presses a hand to his scarred chest, as if in reassurance, but it's apparent in his words that it isn't needed.
Ride me. The statement comes loud and clear, and Harley would be lying if it didn't send heat spreading through her lower abdomen, into the space between her thighs, and down her legs. She's thrumming with need and his words are speaking promises that her body will hold to him.
Harley grins, pushing Carver back onto the bed, a little less gently than she may have moved before, though she's still trying not to spook him too much. She strips off her underwear easily and then reaches behind her to unclip her bra, tossing it away before she climbs onto the cot, her fingers curling into the waistband of Carver's boxers.
She can sense the shift between need and want, and it's the want piece of it that's egging her on, wanting her to coax out of Carver those primal instincts. She wants to learn what he likes. ]
Like this?
[ Harley feigns innocence, crouching over him as she takes his cock into her hand and strokes him firmly, holding him up and lowering herself just enough to tease the tip with her slick folds. She wants to hear it, Carver. ]
no subject
She doubts it, though. She either knows or is pretty certain that everyone she's slept with here has already slept with someone else, and most likely someone else that she also knows. It's just seemed to work out that way. But that isn't what she's focusing on any longer; not with Carver tipping his head just so as she breaks the kiss. She presses a hand to his scarred chest, as if in reassurance, but it's apparent in his words that it isn't needed.
Ride me. The statement comes loud and clear, and Harley would be lying if it didn't send heat spreading through her lower abdomen, into the space between her thighs, and down her legs. She's thrumming with need and his words are speaking promises that her body will hold to him.
Harley grins, pushing Carver back onto the bed, a little less gently than she may have moved before, though she's still trying not to spook him too much. She strips off her underwear easily and then reaches behind her to unclip her bra, tossing it away before she climbs onto the cot, her fingers curling into the waistband of Carver's boxers.
She can sense the shift between need and want, and it's the want piece of it that's egging her on, wanting her to coax out of Carver those primal instincts. She wants to learn what he likes. ]
Like this?
[ Harley feigns innocence, crouching over him as she takes his cock into her hand and strokes him firmly, holding him up and lowering herself just enough to tease the tip with her slick folds. She wants to hear it, Carver. ]