send me a ✿ and i’ll generate a number ( accepting )
even in spite of the cold, her flesh burns hot beneath your palms, pressed flush against the bottom of her rib cage, and, because you’re childish and sadistic and awful, your fingers jab into the soft part just there.
she wriggles to the side, a slight movement.
❝i’m going to kick you,❞ she breathes, like a warning, toes curling in preparation where they rest at your shoulder.
❝really,❞ you purr, utterly undeterred. one palm tucks beneath her thigh, whether as a way of keeping yourself steady, or as a way of keeping her quiet, you don’t yet know.
you lean close, smoothing a hand over her side, down to cradle her hip bone, press a quiet kiss against the dip of her navel.
she keens. hips cant upward, and you’re forced to press her down onto the bed, hands flush against the flat plane of her stomach. you will the ghost of a grin from your lips, eyeing every obscene curve.
❝remember when you said i was trophy husband material?❞ you murmur against the skin, amusedly nosing at the jumping muscles beneath your every ministration. you bite, soft, and——
this time, when she squirms, it’s with a l a u g h.
❝absolutely not,❞ she says, and you grin messily against the sun- kissed jut of her hip, move up, press searing kisses to her chest, the familiar freckles dotting the underside of her breasts.
❝you do,❞ you say, because she does.
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