03-30-2014, 01:52 PM
Spectra did not recognize the quote, but she adored it anyway. Did he make it up, or was there a straight-laced book worm beneath the chiseled, brutish façade? Her musings quickly disappeared when he tilted her face and dominated her every thought with the fierce kiss that followed.
She didn't fight him, he had her undivided attention, certainly, but neither did she wilt weak and swooning in his arms. She enjoyed him the way a goddess enjoyed the worship of those utterly devoted to her. His demands gave her life and flowed through her like the power of the universe she so frequently coveted. When released, she did not step away, but instead looked into his eyes and twirled a fingertip along the ridge of his collarbone, down his side and up the coursing muscles of his back. She'd never noticed the color of his eyes before. Or perhaps she had, and forgot, but for the moment she made the effort to try and remember. There was a very real possibility that after this morning, she would never see them blinking with life again. His work was dangerous, after all, and even he was mortal.
She purred a content consideration for his question, looking up and down the sinew and ridges of muscle pressed against her. She itched with the desire to tease him about the way stress and the years etched itself into his presence, but contentment made for a generous mood, and she offered a compliment instead. "There's one toy of yours that gets a rise out of me,"
she briefly pressed her hand between his legs, waited a minute to see what he would do, then smirked and stepped away.
She busied herself with the rest of the fruit afterward, pausing only for water between bites and studying the surroundings she'd largely dismissed the night before. "I assume you've already called me a car?"
She glanced at him. She'd not be offended if he had, nor take it as a sign to get rid of her, but going their separate ways was only natural.
She didn't fight him, he had her undivided attention, certainly, but neither did she wilt weak and swooning in his arms. She enjoyed him the way a goddess enjoyed the worship of those utterly devoted to her. His demands gave her life and flowed through her like the power of the universe she so frequently coveted. When released, she did not step away, but instead looked into his eyes and twirled a fingertip along the ridge of his collarbone, down his side and up the coursing muscles of his back. She'd never noticed the color of his eyes before. Or perhaps she had, and forgot, but for the moment she made the effort to try and remember. There was a very real possibility that after this morning, she would never see them blinking with life again. His work was dangerous, after all, and even he was mortal.
She purred a content consideration for his question, looking up and down the sinew and ridges of muscle pressed against her. She itched with the desire to tease him about the way stress and the years etched itself into his presence, but contentment made for a generous mood, and she offered a compliment instead. "There's one toy of yours that gets a rise out of me,"
she briefly pressed her hand between his legs, waited a minute to see what he would do, then smirked and stepped away.
She busied herself with the rest of the fruit afterward, pausing only for water between bites and studying the surroundings she'd largely dismissed the night before. "I assume you've already called me a car?"
She glanced at him. She'd not be offended if he had, nor take it as a sign to get rid of her, but going their separate ways was only natural.