[He hisses in pain as she pulls, grunts as she grabs and digs fingers in, but it doesn't discourage his efforts any; she's pissed but that he can work with. She's caught off-guard, not turning him down, exactly. It's what prompts the thumb at her hip to rub deep circles into the hollow, what prompts him to slide fingers along the edge of the bottom half of her ensemble, tracing against skin, as much out of a need to touch it as to find out how to get underneath. Feel out whether she'll let him or not. He doesn't try to kiss her again, no matter how badly he wants to taste her. Not yet, anyway.]
What's it look like I'm doin', darlin'?
[He lets out a breath, rough with want.]
Anybody tell you you're beautiful before? Like...smokin' hot. Seriously.
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What's it look like I'm doin', darlin'?
[He lets out a breath, rough with want.]
Anybody tell you you're beautiful before? Like...smokin' hot. Seriously.