Hi, I’m Bunnie and I write sometimes. Info links are down below! Feel free to request things when requests are open! I also have a prompt link list if you want to request, but don't have any ideas :)
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Latest Series: 'A Marriage of Convenience' [Chap 7]
Latest Oneshot: We'll meet again | Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F! reader {part 1}
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Kinktober 2025 masterlist [nsfw]
Latest Update: Lingerie | Rowena Macelod x F! Reader[nsfw]
btw, I never unfollow mutuals. oh? you moved on from the fandom we had in common? psh. we don't interact anymore? whatever. you completely forgot about me? irrelevant. I still love you.
Brazil legislation: Digital Statute For Children And Adolescents
Apple App Store Age Verification
These are not tumblr specific policies. Tumblr is implementing age verification in response to legislative moves that were made months ago.
Tumblr is a failing social media site that has escaped death multiple times already; they do not have the social cachet to defy state regulatory agencies. We know they won't say no to Apple, either--the porn ban on tumblr was in response to Apple's crackdown on explicit content.
If you did not know this was happening, you were behind the curve. That is fine. You're caught up now. The next step is to link up with people in your country who are working to preserve privacy, to roll back these laws where they exist, and to prevent their passage where they do not. In the US the organization you want is Stop KOSA--in the EU you can start with Fight Chat Control.
Repealing ID verification and blocking chat control will help everyone, especially the most vulnerable. We can push this back, but we cannot get it done through the Feedback form. We have to get it done at the legislative level and lock it down so it cannot be forced upon us. I see lots of anger out there. Good. Put it to use.
warnings/tags: explicit sex, age gap, praise kink, face sitting, fingering, dirty talk, sugar mommy Kate, mommy kink
word count: 6k
+ masterlist + rules +🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
It should have been embarrassing, the sheer Pavlovian inevitability of her name popping up on your screen and lust immediately zapping through your body like three letters conjuring arousal in an instant, but God, who else could say they had Kate Lethbridge-Stewart sending them messages at one in the morning?
Half a year ago, she was the face of every news outlet, her strikingly beautiful features sharpened by camera flashes as she negotiated for the peace of the world. Back then, she hadn’t felt entirely real to you; she’d been one of those untouchable figures normal people only ever saw through television screens and breaking-news alerts, the kind of woman your friends reposted with captions about wanting her to step on them, half-joking and half-serious, while you would’ve fought whatever was going on in the oceans yourself if it meant to see her up close.
Now, as you turn your phone and have her focus on you, your clit almost pulses in the same beat of the music playing in the bar.
I saw what you posted on your profile. Kate had written, omitting any form of greeting.
A giddy grin spreads across your face, and you lift your phone higher, angle it away from your friends, even though they don’t spare you another glance.
Good evening to you, too, Katherine, you reply, adding her full name with the hope it will get you in trouble later. And because you are feeling brave—courtesy of the wine warming pleasantly beneath your skin—you add, Thought women in positions of national security were supposed to keep their distance from social media.
The typing bubble appears almost instantly.
You barely have time to suck in a breath before her next message arrives.
Thought brats were supposed to know better than to be insolent to the woman paying their rent.
You squirm in your seat, thighs clenched together to either fight or chase the throbbing between your legs; no matter for what reason, the pressure nearly has you moaning out loud, and you’re not sure the downtempo electronic music or chirpy chatter of your friends could’ve droned it out enough to spare you from embarrassing yourself. No one had to know your underwear was ruined by a simple text, but you could all but hear the reprimand in it, could imagine that twitch of Kate’s eye, the flutter of her nose as she clipped her words.
Apologies, you text back, biting down on your lip hard enough to hurt. After a quick glance around to make sure none of your friends was paying attention to your darkened screen, your thumb hovers over the predictive text for only a second before tapping it. Mommy.
Heat floods straight through you as your phone’s autocorrection apparently decided to save you from your own terrible instinct to keep provoking Kate any further tonight.
You already are on very thin ice, apparently, after posting a bathroom selfie that had done little to hide how short the hem of your dress was, how deep the neckline plunged, how seductively you had looked over your phone into the mirror.
Oh, so she does know her manners, Kate replies, and your cunt heats up like you had sat down on the sun itself. The knowledge that the older woman was at work—damn workaholic that she was—texting you like this because of a single picture made you feel powerful enough to take on the world. Her click-clack heels at Downing Street and red manicured nails typing warnings towards your attitude; you were so wet.
Throat suddenly dry, you reach out for your glass, tipping the chilled wine against your dry lips right when the next message comes in and completely nullifies the refreshing effect of the fruity alcohol on your tongue.
If your intention with that picture was to remind half of London that you’re attractive, congratulations. If your intention was to make me cancel a meeting because I couldn’t stop imagining you bent over my desk for wearing that slutty dress, I congratulate you as well.
You don’t dare to even exhale for fear of it sounding like the whimper you feel lodged in your throat, that arousing, thrilling image of Kate fucking you in her office, shoving those slender fingers inside you with a hand around your mouth to keep your noises down, bullying all rational thinking out of your mind and replacing every cell of your body with ones that screamed for Kate.
I can hop into a cab, you type, both hands clinging to the phone. The leather of the booth you are sitting in radiates your heat back to you, and the underside of your thighs feels as sticky with sweat as the slick dampening your panties.
Don’t bother, Kate sends back.
For the shortest of moments, there is a hole inside your stomach, one that can’t comprehend the meaning of her message, doesn’t want to accept the dismissal, not when lust has already clouded your brain to the point of so badly needing her to fuck you tonight that you think you might die if you don’t see Kate.
Come outside before I decide to come in there and collect you myself, pretty girl, she adds.
Oh fuck. Your head shoots up, expecting to see Kate walking through the crowded bar, hands shoved into the pockets of her long, swinging coat, and her face set into that no-bullshit expression. Your heart double jumps inside your chest, thrums against your rib cage hard enough that it blends out every other noise around you, and all you can focus on is the demand on your screen, the minutes of time she has given you. Fucking shit, the fact that she knew exactly where you were shouldn’t be as hot as it was.
On the plus side, she wasn’t working anymore.
Some very stupid, very wine-softened part of your brain—the one between your legs, currently operating on nothing but her attention and poor decision-making—gets there before the rest of you can intervene. I’m still out with my friends.
Another notification from your PayPal drops down into the chat, and so does your jaw.
She’s impossible; you almost laugh out loud at the the five-fucking-hundred pounds that are sent with another, single demand: Lose the panties on your way to the car.
“I think I’m heading out for the night.”
Your voice comes out astoundingly steady, and when you add a carefully staged little yawn, you’re fairly certain there’s an Oscar somewhere with your name engraved on it. There’s a faint chorus of protest from your friends—something about it still being early, don’t be ridiculous—but you’re already leaning forward, using the table as cover.
It looks like you’re just reaching for your bag when in reality, your fingers close around your keys first, then slip up beneath the table, hidden by the short fall of your dress, finding the thin strap of your sodden underwear. Your pulse is loud enough to drown out everything else as you angle the tiny Swiss Army knife into place and, with a quick, precise movement, sever the elastic.
One last faux-apologetic smile into the round, and you’re making your way out of the bar, watching yourself stuff the black, wet fabric of your panties into your handbag in the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling windowfront; a blush on your cheeks and a cold breeze of the elevator brushing your cunt.
Five floors down, and you think you feel a drop of arousal roll down your thighs. Music plays in here as well, but you ignore it.
Ten, and you avoid eye contact with the elevator operator, who thankfully seems to be disinterested in conversations, or maybe you just look as ready to be fucked as you feel, and he knows better than to speak up.
Fifteen floors down, the doors slide open in the foyer, and you’re already moving—quickly, aware of your nakedness under your dress—to properly slow down. The golden-lit entrance hall blurs past as you hurry through it, coatroom ignored without even a second thought, because Kate will simply replace anything she decides she wants you to have again, and you know it.
You almost stumble through the building doors into the cold spring night, air hitting you sharp and immediate, and there—just as expected—the black car is waiting at the curb with its door already open for you to duck in.
An arm circles around your waist, and the door is barely shut when an eager mouth slants itself across yours, a hot, hungry tongue insistently licking over your bottom lip in a similar greedy greeting as Kate’s hands haul you onto her lap with a low, rough sound from deep in her throat, hard enough to steal a gasp from you. The car jolts into movement, your knees dig into the upholstery, but you don’t care, not when Kate’s kisses devour you, bruising and breathless. She barely lets you breathe between them, and you helplessly rock into her, fingers clutching uselessly at her heavy coat. The older blonde doesn’t waste patience or niceties when they aren’t required, and you feel the full force of it in the fingers that dig into the flesh of your arse to roll her hips up into you, her thighs spreading yours automatically while her mouth keeps stealing every shaky breath you try to take.
When Kate leans back against the seat and leers at you through darkened brown eyes, you try to chase after her lips, drunk on the taste of her. Your nose bumps against hers, and instead of kissing you, Kate drags her teeth along your jawline, nipping at the skin under your chin.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Kate purrs, fingers winding around your neck.
You shiver at the rasp of her voice, hips rocking down against hers before you can stop yourself, eager and aching for the friction. Kate’s grip tightens immediately, one warm hand sliding down the curve of your waist to smooth over the thin fabric of your dress, restless fingers stroking higher and higher like she can’t decide where she wants to touch you most.
She always had that eagerness to touch you and claim you, from the first time you had met after she’d hired you over The Agency when she’d taken you out for a get-to-know-each-other-dinner that ended with her finger fucking you in the bathroom of the most expensive restaurant you’d ever been, brown eyes glinting wickedly as she left fingerprints on your thighs and your legs in a state unable to walk. You know bits about her past, know or suspect there must have been someone she had lost because of that sharp control she needed, sometimes desperately. You didn’t mind the rougher fucks, could gladly take her stretching you out with her toys or pressing your face into a pillow as a crop landed on your arse; sex with Kate was always with care, no matter how snottily you cried into luxury sheets.
“Hi,” you breathe out, embarrassingly wrecked already, the word catching in your throat when Kate drags her palm over your thigh and squeezes hard. “Hello.”
Kate grins against your skin, sharp and pleased, and it only makes you press closer. Her hands are everywhere—gliding over your hips, your stomach, the dip of your waist—heated through the thin fabric, possessive and impatient enough to leave you squirming in her lap. The movement earns another low sound from her, her forehead tipping against yours as you roll your hips again without shame this time, chasing the pressure the smooth fabric of her expensive trousers offers to your clit.
“There she is,” Kate murmurs, eyes dark as they flick over your flushed face. Her blonde hair looks impeccable despite the hour and when she raises an eyebrow and drops her voice, you question how she wasn’t the most desired woman in all of politics. “Missed me that much?”
“You were the one interrupting my night,” you shoot back, grinning crookedly.
“But you aren’t complaining,” Kate doesn’t phrase it as a question, and nevertheless, you shake your head. “That’s what I thought,” she adds smugly and her hand roams over your thighs. “Did you have a fun evening, darling?”
You hum in agreement, still moving and rolling your hips in circles, grinding against her trousers, every rare scratch against your clit pulsing through you. It’s not enough to stimulate you constantly, nowhere close to getting you off, but you like it all the same, love the knowledge of Kate allowing you to be so lascivious; she lets you rut all over the clothes she had worn while saving the world today.
“We had cocktails,” you say, a moan rumbling through you as Kate’s hands tighten on your hips, guiding you to roll slowly against her lap with deliberate, maddening pressure.
“Good ones?” Kate asks, dark eyes drinking you in, and the city lights flash in passing over her openly ravenous expression.
“Mmhm,” you manage, shivering when she guides your hips harder against her lap. “Very expensive.”
Kate smiles at that, slow and pleased and a little wicked. “As they should be,” she murmurs, fingertips digging into your waist possessively. “I don’t spoil you so you can develop cheap taste.”
Heat floods straight through you, embarrassingly immediate, and Kate notices of course she does. Her gaze flicks down to your mouth as you bite your lip, smug amusement curling at the edges of hers.
“Look at you—” there is a roughness in her voice and her thumbs press simultaneously into your lower stomach and you know you’re dripping all over her trousers. “Wearing things I bought, sitting in my lap, getting wet while I ask about your evening.”
You whine under your breath when she rocks your hips harder against her, the friction making your thoughts blur pleasantly.
“Can’t help it,” you admit and because it’s not enough that you’re humping her in the back of her car, you bring your hands into her hair, feeling the soft, silky texture of the blonde strands to get a hold of something.
“No,” Kate agrees, leaning in until her mouth brushes yours again. “You really can’t.”
She chuckles gravely at the way you immediately duck your head instead of giving her anymore worded answer after another bruising kiss, the sound melting into a pleased hum, warm, and smug against your ear as you settle closer in her lap. You press a lingering kiss beneath her jaw, then another at the corner of her mouth before trailing slowly down the elegant line of her throat, your lips soft and teasing where hers had been demanding. Her pulse jumps beneath your mouth, and you feel her fingers flex against your hip at the sensation.
“Rest up, sweet girl,” Kate murmurs, closing her thighs for more comfort. “I bought a new bed, and I can’t wait to christen it with you.”
Obediently, you sink into her. “Yes, mommy.”
The rest of the drive passes in a haze of stolen breaths and wandering hands, with you curled against her like you can’t get close enough, kissing along the smooth column of her neck and the sharp edge of her jaw until her head tips back against the seat in quiet approval. Every so often, Kate drags you back up for another dizzying kiss to your mouth, slow and deep enough to leave you flushed before you return to mouthing at her skin again, her hands endlessly roaming over your dress in warm, restless strokes while the city lights flash through the windows around you.
By the time the car glides to a stop in front of Kate’s building, you’re half-limp in her lap, lipstick ruined and head pleasantly fuzzy from the steady attention of her mouth and hands. Outside, the suburban house is a far cry from what you had expected Kate to live in; she’d taken you up to penthouses of hotels for the first dates and she still did sometimes, if only to get out her strap and fuck you legless and flat over every surface You’d once asked how much the room cost and immediately wished you hadn’t when Kate had answered without blinking, like naming numbers that could buy entire apartment blocks was as casual as discussing the weather.
Honestly, you had bagged a good one.
Not just rich—obscenely rich. Private-driver-at-any-hour rich. “I bought a new bed on a whim” rich. Tailored suits and jewlery worth more than your yearly rent rich. The kind of truly, filthy rich that had paid for most of your wardrobe, replaced your cracked phone without a second thought, and once flown you to Florence for a weekend because you’d casually mentioned wanting to see the Uffizi someday.
It doesn’t help that she’s maddeningly fit and hilarious as well.
The driver opens the door before either of you move, but Kate catches your chin first, dragging you into another kiss that leaves you dizzy all over again. “Come on,” she murmurs against your mouth, voice roughened with want, expensive hands all over you.
You barely make the four, five, six steps up her front door with your dignity intact, and it’s all Kate’s fault. Even before she slides the key into the lock, you find yourself crowded against the cold wood, her thigh between yours and one hand slipping up the front of your dress, up and higher over your thigh, nimble fingers dancing closer and closer. There is a sharp grin against your shoulder when she trails through the streak of slick sticking to your skin. Slut, her teeth seem to bite into your muscle, mouth still huffing around an amused chuckle.
“What a mess you’ve made,” Kate murmurs, teasing a whine out of you with the low voice and thigh against your arse. “Bet I could fuck you right here on the street and you would moan like a whore for me.”
Your eyes nearly roll back inside your head, and your teeth dig deep enough into your kiss-swollen bottom lip that tears well up. “Yes, mommy,” you get out hoarsely, the shame of wanting her so much even right now sitting as hot in your blood as the lust.
The key clicks in the lock, and before you can properly catch your balance again, Kate is guiding you backwards with firm hands until it’s your spine meeting the door. She shuts it behind you with a solid thud, crowding into your space immediately after. In her heels, she towers over you slightly, all sleek strength and controlled power, her slim frame deceptively muscular where it presses you pinned against the wood.
“Kate—” you start, already breathlessly, but she cuts the sound off with her mouth.
The kiss turns dirty fast. Open-mouthed and heated, all tongue and slow bites that make your knees weaken as Kate presses herself against you. Her hand once more slides up your thigh beneath the hem of your dress, just enough to leave your skin burning without giving you what you want, teasing strokes that keep you squirming while she kisses you deep and messy. You can taste the faint trace of your own lipstick smeared across her lips, and when you make a helpless little sound into her mouth, Kate smiles against you like she’s won the biggest prize at the fair.
“I would ask if you followed my order—” Kate nips at your jaw and your head thunks back, exposing every inch of throat and neck for her to mark up however she wanted, purple or blue as her blouse and coat, pink like the bottle of her perfume on which scent you’re drunk on, “but I know you’re too much of a good girl for mommy to disobey her.”
Kate hums at the sight of you already melting for her, the sound low and satisfied as she smooths a hand over your waist.
“Mm. That’s my girl,” she purrs, lips brushing lazily beneath your ear before she finally steps back just enough to look at you properly, eyes dark with amusement and want alike. “Come on, then. Time to show you mommy’s new bed.”
Her new bed, as it turns out, has the softest mattress you have ever felt, all deep plush comfort and expensive linen that practically begs you to melt into it and sleep through the whole week.
Not that you get the chance to enjoy it properly. Not after Kate walks you backwards across the room with that dark look in her eyes, not after she kisses you light-headed the moment your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and certainly not after she has tied your wrists neatly to the headboard and made herself comfortable on your face.
She thrones on top of you like a queen, her glorious thighs pressing against your head like the smoothest, softest pair of ear mufflers you’ve ever owned, and her hand is wrapped around the pole of the headboard to guide her movements, those magnificent hips rocking, circling, grinding onto your mouth. Elegance is carved into every inch of her, even in the throes of passion. While you suck on her clit, lick through her folds, fuck into her with your tongue, you barely dare to blink, enamoured with the sight of her pale and freckled stomach and her small breasts, with the way her dark eyelashes are lowered onto blush-dappled cheeks and how her thin lips are curved into an easy smile as pleased sighs and moans mingle with the sound of you lapping at her.
She tastes like the most exquisite drink and you try to swallow as much of her as you can, chasing after every drop, mewling and whining when you feel her juices drip down the corner of your mouth and trickle a trail over your throat, too far away for you to get it and with your hands bound, there is no way to keep her on your tongue.
“Yes—yes, like that, oh fuck,” Kate moans when your tongue plunges into her again.
Her blonde hair falls messily into her face and over her sharp shoulders, and you can feel her clench around you, feel the throb of her clit when you detour and wrap your lips around the bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, aren’t you just perfect for mommy—” Kate groans, her hips losing the effortless rhythm as she starts to chase after the orgasm that you yourself notice in the tremble of her thighs and the sheer amount of wetness. “More, be a good girl for me,” she demands and the hand on the headboard reaches for restraints. She twists them around her first, tightening the fabric and your arms are abruptly pulled up higher, nails scrambling for a hold and meeting her palm as you cry out into her cunt.
Brown, lust-shot eyes stare down at you, her mouth curving into an exhilarating smirk as she sees you squirm for her.
“Needy little slut,” she rasps and for the first time, you have to squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to keep your thighs apart and fight the orgasm that’s simmering in your blood and already fucked-out brain.
Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen or the fact that you become helpless around her, but you think the slightest touch to your clit could make you pass out right now.
Eager to make her come on your tongue you huff in a long breath and keeping your eyes trained onto her—how her free hand starts to roughly pinch and pull at her erect nipples, red fingernails leaving pinkish streaks on the ivory skin of her breasts—and you first nose and then lick over her clit, in a broad stripe then small, fast kitten licks right over it and Kate comes with the most arousing, sexy low grunt you’ve heard, pressing down onto your tongue as she tenses up.
Kate collapses backwards, sadly, moving away from your mouth and falls onto the mattress, legs beautifully opened for you to strain your neck and admire with pride the display of her cunt. If you could, you would have dived right back in, make her come again and again.
“Fuck me,” Kate guffaws, tits lifting at a long intake of breath and you want to bite her nipples, lavish the peaks and every inch of her skin until she glistens and shines likes the diamonds she bought you for your last birthday.
“Again?” You ask, practically perking up like a dog and tug at your restraints, wiggle around with an abundance of energy buzzing through you.
Kate props herself up on her elbows. One brow lifts, lips quirking. Her toes brush lightly against your ribs as she studies you.
“You’re ambitious,” she says dryly, voice warm with teasing. “But I think you’re forgetting something important about me.”
You tilt your head, still very much not done with her.
Kate exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “My stamina,” she continues, “is not what it used to be at your age.”
Your expression falls almost immediately, lips pushing out into a slow, exaggerated pout as you stare up at her like she’s personally offended you.
“That’s not fair,” you mumble, twisting slightly against the restraints in a way that’s more sulky than persuasive.
“Darling, don’t push it.”
Kate’s amusement falls warningly low, and she swings herself back onto your stomach, totally ignorant of how her wet cunt burns through your middle and how the sight of the trimmed dark hairs sends you into a near cardiac arrest. Her breasts swing slightly over your head as she leans over to untie the knot around your wrists, and you lunge up, finally engulfing one nipple around your mouth, teeth worrying at the hardened nub as both of you moan out loud.
Her hand flies to the back of your head, craddling you closer with her fingers splayed wide and scratching through your hair, her back arching into you. Just when you think you get away with it, sucking and licking at her nipple, eyes pleadingly looking up at her, the hand in your hair tightens, and even before she throws a disapproving look at her, she yanks your head away.
“You have been such a good girl so far,” she starts, and you whine pathetically. She brings you closer to her face, her freckles and worry lines highlighted by flushed skin, and lifts both brows. “Behave, or I will tie you down with mommy’s favourite vibrator and watch you earn your allowance until you are crying for me to stop.”
It costs you more than everything to not moan in favour of the idea of that.
“I’m sorry,” you choke up on the words yes, please fuck me stupid, mommy, and try to put as much remorse into it as possible.
Gentle fingers comb through your hair, smoothing the sting out of her earlier grip, and a kiss is pressed against your forehead, followed by a soft murmur, “I know, darling, I know.”
Then Kate shifts lower with a quiet sigh. The mattress dips beneath her weight as she folds herself against you, all warm skin and lingering fruity and sweet perfume, settling her slender body carefully so you can feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing against your naked chest, the feeling of curves and hips and smooth skin going straight to your head. Moonlight poured into the room and melted all over Kate’s skin, shining silver and pearlescent in her blonde hair and you lost yourself, staring at her brown eyes, heart tripping over itself in your chest.
The moment feels fragile and you want to hide your face in the dip of where her graceful neck meets her shoulders that carry so much, and drown in the care and adoration that this wonderful woman grants you.
“So,” Kate draws out, voice gone honey-warm again. “What do we do with you now?”
Before you can answer, she bends down and kisses you.
It is nothing like the frantic, filthy kisses from earlier in the night. These are slow, lingering things, soft enough to make your ribs ache. Kate kisses you like she has all the time in the world now, mouth warm and unhurried against yours, every brush of her lips careful and affectionate. When you sigh into her mouth, she smiles a little against you before kissing you again, gentler this time, sweet and sugary. Her thigh slips between yours and you gasp as the firm muscle presses against your cunt, your clit dragging over her silky skin.
The smile becomes a smirk, a deep purr from her throat when you roll your hips into her and that hot-white-fizzling zap of arousal and desire sparks over your spine.
“There is my girl,” Kate husks, sliding a hand between your bodies.
You both groan at the wetness she easily slips through, and you whisper a “Please,” against her lips.
“Aren’t you just the sweetest?” Kate asks and trails her fingers through you folds, two of them circling around your entrance as you push forward. She sinks them in with no resistance and curls them immediately, grinning and kissing the moan from your lips.
She knows exactly what to do to you and, plays you like an instrument and manipulates your pleasure with those nimble fingers and her voice, moving her mouth across your face and throat to burn each word into your already marked skin.
“You look so beautiful for me, sweet girl.” Kate thrusts her finger deep, hitting that spot inside you that has your toes curling into the expensive sheets and your fingers scrambling to hold onto something, liquified pleasure racing through your bloodstream. “I wanted to feel that pretty cunt around my fingers the moment I saw that dress. Needed to fuck you right over that bathroom sink and fill you up,” she groans as you tighten, your eyes slanting shut at the filth of her words.
“Mommy, please—” you beg, the pitch of your voice rising into desperation, and Kate shushes you.
“Let me play with you a bit,” she drawls, and to accentuate her point, her fingers slowly drag out of you again, leaving you empty despite what she had just said she wanted to do, and you cry; first at the unfairness of her, then because her slick fingers find your clit and she rolls it between the dexterous digits.
For a while, that’s all she does, driving you into a frantic madness, reducing you to babbling pleas while she slides two fingers into you, dragging them across every spot, curving and scisorring—“Take your time, lovely, don’t rush this.”—then spreading the arousal over your sensitive clit—“I have no self control around you, all I want to do is spoil you rotten, my darling.”—and repeating the pattern until you’re not sure if she will ever end this.
Finally, Kate deems you enough of a mess and goes back to kissing you, plunging her fingers into you mercilessly, shifting her thigh to accompany every thrust with the rolling motions of her body.
“Come for me,” she rasps and angles her hand so her thumb can press down onto your clit hard enough that your vision whitens out. The last thing you hear before every muscle in your body tenses up is a demanding, “Come for mommy,” and then there is nothing but static crackling in your ears.
You come back to yourself, not knowing how much time has passed.
There is a warm, soft body curled around yours beneath the sheets, Kate lying close enough that there isn’t an inch of space left between you. One of her legs is tangled with yours, her bare thigh hooked over your hip while her arm rests heavily around your waist, keeping you tucked against her chest. One of her hands rests loosely on the small of your back, thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in absent little strokes.
The room is dark except for the muted glow of the city outside the windows, silver light catching on pale skin and rumpled linen. Kate’s blonde hair is a complete mess across the pillow, softer somehow like this, freed from all the careful polish she wears during the day. Up close, you can see every faint freckle scattered over her nose and cheeks, every softened line around her eyes now that her usual composure has melted into exhaustion.
Her eyes are closed, breathing deep and slow against your mouth.
You can feel the warmth of every exhale.
Carefully, you shift one hand up her side, fingertips brushing lazily over her waist, and Kate immediately makes a quiet sound of protest before burrowing even closer. Her forehead nudges against yours, nose brushing yours sleepily.
“Don’t move,” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
A helpless smile pulls at your mouth. “I wasn’t.”
“Mhm.” Kate sounds unconvinced, though one eye cracks open just enough to look at you.
There is still the faintest trace of lipstick smeared at the corner of her mouth. You brush your thumb over it gently, and her expression softens into something unbearably fond. “You’re staring,” she whispers, and if you weren’t too exhausted to go another round, the rasp of her voice gathers warm in your core and absurdly enough in your heart as well.
“You’re pretty.”
Kate huffs a sleepy little laugh at that, the sound warm against your lips before she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your mouth—slow and lingering, more affection than hunger now.
“Silly girl,” she mutters and runs her hand over your spine. “I’m old and past my prime.”
“I don’t know about that,” you say and kiss her throat. “You’re the hottest mil—”
A sound close to a growl vibrates under your mouth, and Kate’s fingernails scratch to close the spots where you are ticklish. “If you finish that sentence, I will cancel the flight to Spain in two weeks,” she threatens and you giggle.
“You don’t even know what I want to say.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she murmurs and the sheets rustle as she pulls you impossibly closer, tangling herself around you. “My son has friends who thought they could call me that—that description.”
“What?” you feign ignorance. “They called you a hot millionaire as well?”
She humphs, and you grin triumphantly.
“Wait,” you pause. “We’re flying to spain?”
Kate blinks at you slowly, clearly debating whether she has enough energy left to deal with your sudden excitement.
“Yes, darling,” she says at last, voice dry with fond amusement. “We’re flying to Spain.”
Your entire face lights up so quickly that she actually laughs.
“You spoil me,” you accuse softly, though the words melt into another grin before they properly leave your mouth.
“That is rather the arrangement,” Kate points out, one eyebrow lifting despite the exhaustion weighing her down. Her fingertips drift lazily up and down your spine beneath the sheets, soothing and absent. “Besides, you said you wanted to go.”
You duck your head a little, suddenly shy despite everything the two of you had done tonight. “I didn’t expect you to remember,” you mumble.
Kate watches you for a moment, dark eyes softening with something unbearably affectionate. Then she cups your cheek in one warm hand and tips your face back up toward hers.
“How could I forget what makes you happy,” she murmurs.
Her mouth finds yours one last time. It’s another slow kiss, one clearly meant to end this conversation. You melt into it immediately, fingers curling loosely against her side while Kate hums quietly against your mouth. When she pulls away, she doesn’t go far, forehead resting against yours beneath the dim silver glow from the windows.
“Go to sleep,” she whispers, and you snuggle in, the world fading out with her heartbeat lulling you into sweet summer dreams.
