Her avarice for every centimeter of the sensations piercing her flesh was mesmeric, inexplicable of someone frequently inept in his third or fourth languages and resigned to the simplicity of explicitly vulgar vocabulary ( to which, one too many times, he’d been informed didn’t make him sound smart, and yearning for something else that would display his intelligence beyond measly report cards ). The lasciviousness of her remarks were dotted with unfamiliar glimpses of sensitivity, too — the demure hitch of breath underneath her unsteadied by the implication that she tethered such a devotion to something he had introduced her to, but not expected her to live by code. The peer of orbs flickering from beneath the rims of her dress skirts followed the movement of her palms dragging his up to her perky bosom. Responsively, his calloused hands enclosed around them, massaging the mounds and thumbing along her nipples, his eyes fluttering closed to fixate on the gyration of her hips inclining toward his mouth and resuming to lick around her entrance. There was something filthily reminiscent, a dirty reservation that could be attributed solely to the two of them who were imbued with the other now. Eves long since past, striding her home from the bar where she worked under a false namesake, they’d bicker and they’d argue and they’d fuck — an inflection of that greed dripping from Evren’s high-pitched shrills and covets, the unraveling of her patience to have every inch of his skin meshing against hers and indulge the wicked sensation of him sliding home and rocking her bed until the neighbors fussed. It was those nights, lying spent and speechless alongside her, the thorns around the spaces of his heart retreated and permitted for her to edge inward. At first, he’d claim she was like a disease — arsenic-laced folds that his pierced tongue now delved between and dipped in and out of her, tasting her constricting walls longing for more, enticing him as the sirens that folktales ascribed lounging around coves and jagged rocks. Attentive fingertips twisted and squeezed the hardened buds of her nipples, stroking his tongue deeper when she bucked until the whinier and raucous bounce of her ass provoked an unintentional chuckle, abruptly withdrawing one hand and smacking it stingingly against her tit. Crooked teeth nipped her cheek, sputtering, “Then stay still, you’re drivin’ me bats, do you wanna cum on my face or not?” It wouldn’t be terribly unlike him to tease, wedding night or not.
A grunt answered her words, unable to deny that his pants were getting awfully cramped, no thanks to the trifling addition of the suit styling. Goading one another could be considered a favored pasttime, working up the appetite for the next level, where they’d bitch and they’d make up and make love. A smoldering exhale against her pink flesh, one hand slithered back down to wrap around her thigh and anchor the vamp there, growling, “If you thrash again, your tits are gonna get fucked before you.” Snorting through partial amusement, the groom adjusted a moment longer before resuming and pressing his face in close this time. The hand grasping on her skin provided leverage, pecking licks and nibbling rims of porcelain teeth against her magnificently soaked core. Lavishing a few swirls against her clit, his other hand mashed and coarsely groped her breast, playing into the former assassin’s kind of tough loving. The pathway of his tongue milled lower, paying mind to substitute another suckle to where she burned most for him before wedging the tip back into her. Cyrek’s head bobbed and tremored the hem of her dress, timing the thrusts of his tongue and exploring inside her quivering walls. The resonation of his moans pulsed against her, savoring the taste of her nectar unlike anyone else in the innumerous times he’d surely fumbled around in years past, and his thumb pressed against her erect nipple, toying it around to the rhythm. The sound of her moans inundating the walls and drenching them in her ecstasy was rewarding and exhilarating, an intangible emotion connected with intimacy that he hadn’t entirely registered with another person. Evren was different, and she was more than intoxicating — someone that no matter how many times they’d done this or that, he’d be eager to perform it with a twist or with the wonted continuity all the same, and as long as she was left with her wires undone and her inner desires salaciously fulfilled, it would be enough. Pulling back an inch, he breathed, “You taste so good, babygirl, I wanna hear you scream...” A stripe was licked flush along the middle of her pussy, returning to suckle and dart his tongue around, dipping his thumb down to rub against her clit. “Now.”
