It is dark—but, well, you walk around in the dark all the time—and you don't live in the safest area—be honest, you're at absolutely no risk of getting abducted at your weight.
For god’s sake, your brain needs to quit it with these insecure thoughts and just accept this opportunity. How many times in your life will a military commander with a pretty voice and muscles big enough to take on your weight be this persistent in pursuing you?
Exactly.
You nod, but that lingering part of you is worried about having him so deep in your personal space. It feels too serious and vulnerable. Still, what harm could a puppy-eyed soldier bring to the dark walk up to your place?
Not a moment of hesitation passes before the driver’s door slams shut, and he almost forgets to lock the car. "See, if I had let you walk all the way home, it'd be this dark out while you're still out near my place. Sketchy stuff, darlin'," he mumbles as he finds his place at your side.
His arm hovers at your back, fingertips just barely brushing at the dip of your spine, like he wants to help and guide you even though he doesn’t have the first clue as to which door is yours.
The two of you begin to climb the stairs up to your level, and you’re only halfway up the first flight when you break the silence with an apology. You feel guilty for being so harsh towards him in the car, because he truthfully hasn’t done anything to deserve it.
And also the smell of his cologne is stuck in your nose. And the feeling of his eyes on you is making your heart race. And the ghost of his warm hand still lives on your thigh and it feels so, so good.
And maybe you’re sorta willing to give this a chance, even if it means you end up humiliating yourself.
If only you felt more confident in your ability to flirt right now. It’s a warm night and you’re walking up two flights of stairs—you’d bet money you don’t look your best.
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” Phillip easily replies. “I shoulda realized you weren’t into it—I'm usually a lot better about this stuff. I guess I just really didn’t wanna give up my chance with you.” His tone is almost self deprecating as he speaks. “I’ll stop botherin’ you, I swear it.”
Shit.
Have you really managed to be so insecure you fumbled a once in a life time opportunity to get with a man this hot?
You almost trip over the stairs but manage not to fall on your face. How can you backtrack all of this without sounding desperate? Stuttering over an explanation that it’s really not that serious and you actually don’t mind, you find yourself inviting him to have a beer at your place before he drives back—to pretty please let you make up for all of your previous defensive behavior.
The words tumble out before you can even fully realize what you’re saying, but you’re somewhat thankful of that fact. If you weren’t a complete blundering mess at the moment then you probably wouldn’t have had the confidence to ask something like that.
Your heart is racing faster than at any other point this night, and when he doesn’t immediately respond, you open your mouth to take it back.
“You sure, sugar? I don’t wanna impose any more than I already have.”
No, please, please, please.
You nod your head and chew on your lip.
“Hell, I’d love to.”
Oh, thank god.
When you make it to your door, Phillip stands close behind you, one hand braced on the doorframe. His shadow casts over you in the dim light of the hallway sconces, and you swear the gravity of this situation lands on you like a physical weight. His other hand reaches around you and pushes the door open once you’ve unlocked it like he’s eager. When he steps inside, he closes the door right behind him.
"Nice place you got here," he comments idly, glancing around at your arguably messy and bland living room. He’s gotta be lying just to be nice. You've seen his place—you know yours doesn’t compare.
You grab two beers from the fridge and hand one to him, dropping to lounge on the couch. Suddenly you regret your invitation for him to join you because what exactly was your plan here? He's sitting here looking like your most shameful fantasy and you're just sitting there with no idea of what to say or do. He has to be the one to save you and initiate a conversation.
"I know you already forgave me," he starts. You're already cringing in anticipation. He's really not gonna let this topic up. To be fair, you can't stop thinking about everything that's happened tonight either. "But I really want you to trust me; I want to give you a reason to trust me." A sigh passes his lips, and you shakily sip your beer as you watch the way he looks over you. His eyes linger on every little bit from head to toe. You don't even realize how you tug at your shirt or grab a pillow to hold over your lap. Those things are all already subconscious habits at this point.
His jaw clenches as he watches, and he notices. He glares at the pillow like its very presence is a particularly offensive personal attack on him. "Let me prove myself," he whispers as he looks back up at your face, eyes darkened. A beat passes and you don't respond, so he shifts a little bit closer. Your fingers curl tighter in the pillow.
"You're genuinely the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
A shift closer.
"From that first moment I saw you in my home, I just knew I would never be able to let you go."
Another.
"And I told all my buddies that I'd getcha; but you ain't that easy, are you?" He scoffs softly. "No, I looked forward to making a fool of myself if front of all my men every damn time because it meant I got to look at you. I'd make a fool of myself a thousand more times if it meant you keep throwin' me scraps."
He gently grabs your can from your hand with no resistance from you, and he sets both drinks aside. He would rather hold your face anyway. His palm cradles your jaw. Your eyes are wide with awe and nerves, and he swims in them. "A whole meal is better than scraps, though, and I'm a greedy man." He's so close now that his warm, beer-scented breath fans over your parted lips. His eyes are half lidded, and they're more focused on your lips than your eyes at this point.
"Is this alright, sweet girl?" You nod and swallow thickly. "Good, then let me prove myself."
He ducks his head in a quick motion and your lips connect, his other hand moving to find your arm. You gasp softly—you don't even know why you're surprised, it was obvious what he was trying to do. Still, a part of you didn't really expect he'd actually go through with it.
You're caught off guard and your breath is trapped in your throat. He doesn't pull away, simply swallowing any little noises and breaths you try to steal during your kiss. His hand slides into your hair and cradles your head to pull you closer as he kisses you again, and again, and again.
Fuck, it feels so good.
You reach your hands out blindly to rest on his chest and he immediately hums in reaction, placing his own hand firmly over yours to encourage you. None of this feels real. His muscles are hard and solid beneath your hands, and you're looping your arms around his neck before you even process what you're doing.
"Please, baby," he mumbles against your lips, his tongue just barely darting out. "Believe me." His breaths come out in short, hot puffs, and his voice is lower and more drawn out than usual. He swallows down the taste of you on his tongue as he continues to devour you. "I need you to believe me."
He finally pulls back, only taking a breath to admire your flushed face and glossy lips before he's nuzzling into your neck. His arms wrap around you to clumsily hold you closer, and when he places a small kiss below your ear and you don't pull away, that's the only confirmation he needs. His lips part and he trails hot, wet kisses over the line of your neck. His tongue sweeps over the sweet skin, tasting the salt of your sweat and lingering perfume.
The soft little noises you make land right against his ear and each one spurs him on to kiss harder.
Now that he has you, he’s not letting go.
And now that he has you, he’s lost all control.
He gently nibbles at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, and his arms tighten around you like he’s worried you might pull away at any moment. “You make every mission worth it,” he manages to say between kisses. “Every time I’m out there—with all the sweat, and dirt, and blood—I think about the fact that I gotta get back home so I can see your pretty face on my couch again.”
Phillip sounds drunk as he talks, and you know it’s not from the beer—you’re actually pretty sure he only managed to take one sip before deciding he’d rather drink you instead. You’re right there beside him, though. It feels like every kiss is melting your brain, dissolving away any apprehension or rational thought.
He lifts his head once more to press another kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to speak.
Pairing : Phillip Graves x F!Reader
Summary : Trying to lay low ain't so bad when he's back home running into beauties like you.
WC : 756
TW! : Suggestive MDNI!, mentions of the hat rule.
A/N : I love this southern man. P.S. I am not from the south so if this is horribly cringey, I am so sorry. LOL.
Dividers Credits : uzmacchiato, strangergraphics, sophiaurora
MASTERLIST HERE!
Phillip was back home temporarily, staying low for now after his betrayal to the 141.
One of the first things Phillip wanted to do while being back home was hit a bar or something, get a damn drink. He turned up at one of the bars he used to visit before becoming consumed by his company. It wasn’t some big bar, not some club shit, just a nice little place nestled somewhere down south.
He was expecting to just clear his head with a drink, not have it fogged by you, another southern beauty. He’d been with plenty before so it’s not like you were anything special, but damn you if your name wasn’t temptation.
Dressed in a outfit too tight, and a hat with a brim that overshadowed your face enough to give some mystery, you stood there drinking with a few other women. They were alright but it was you he was focused on.
You had just finished your drink when another was being slid in front of you along with your friends that were here with you.
“What’s this?” You asked the bartender who pointed to the blonde man down the bar, blue eyes boring into yours.
Your friends were totally giddy about a man as fine as him buying them drinks. Their voices bounced around somewhere in the back of your head as they discussed who should go over and thank him, totally ignoring the fact who he had his eyes on.
You picked your drink up and walked over without a word, your friends a little shocked you took the initiative to be the one to go over. He straightened up as you approached.
You came to a stop about a foot away, leaning your side into the bar.
“You got us drinks.” You said, skipping a friendly hello.
“I did.” He said, acknowledging your observation.
He was a good looking man, shirt tight around the biceps, skin wearing marks from his time in service, a smile that was mesmerizing but also equal parts trouble, and a tall glass of confidence that was alluring.
“Got them girls rowdy.” You said in reference to your friends who were watching intently.
“Mm, not you though?”
“Takes more than a drink to impress me.” You said, taking a long sip of the drink he got you.
“If that’s so, why you standing in front of me?”
“I said takes more to impress, not entertain.”
“That’s the weirdest thank you I think I’ve ever heard.
The banter between you two had your friends staring on like some fan club. You hardly cared, just like him. His attention was solely on you, eyes never leaving you.
“Sounds like you want me to be oh so thankful.”
“Wouldn’t kill you to have some manners.”
That should’ve been off putting, sounding like when a guy tells you that you should smile more, but strangely it wasn’t. You offered a short chuckle.
“What? You want that southern hospitality?” you joked.
It seemed to land well with him.
“Maybe I just want the southern beauty instead.”
That earned a full laugh this time.
“Smooth.”
He just slightly shrugged, his smile morphing into something cocky and knowing.
“It’s my middle name.”
“And what is your name?”
You finally asked, locked in enough to begin to care about his name.
“Phillip Graves.” He said, now curious about you. “And yours?”
“Another drink will have you earning it.” You said, shooting back the rest of the drink.
“Oh?” He tilted his head slightly. “I have to earn it?”
“Well yeah? Told you I ain’t easy.” You easily responded. He simply hummed in response, ordering another round, this time just for you and him.
“Is it as mysterious as this hat of yours?” He said, hand reaching out to flick the wide brim up.
“Ain’t mysterious, just a hat. Actin like it’s your first day on earth or somethin’.”
He seemed comfortable enough to take his antics a bit further, grabbing your hat and putting it on his head.
“Fit’s me better.” He boasted
You didn’t say anything, just smiled.
“What?” He suddenly asked, unsure why you were staring at him like that.
“You know the hat rule?”
“I do.” He simply replied.
When you ended up coming back over a bit later, your friends began firing questions at you, one being what’s happening. Your only response?
“Bout to go save a horse.”
Then they were left watching as you walked out, Phillips arm around your waist as you two disappeared into the night.
— 18+, 10,6K characters, making up for the mid ass blade play fic
A = Aftercare what he does after sex.
He'd take care of you after sex, he's a gentleman. Wipe the remnants of your jizz and his's with a spare towel. Although it's quite rare of him to do that when he'd definitely lick you off instead, putting his mouth to good use.
B = Body part his favorite body part of yours
The favorite in his list of 'his favourite body part of yours' might be neck and butt, but it can't beat the infamous thighs. He's definitely a things guy with the way he'd lick, bite, squeeze, anything he could do to them. He's not gonna deny himself from looking at you in between them, squeezing it as he eats you out.
C = Cum anything to do with cum
From the aftercare prompt, you can tell he's adjusting enough with cum. To the point he'd most definitely would halt for 2 seconds to pull out from your mouth as you give him a blow job before clearing his kids out on your face. He'd also caress your folds that's drenched with a mix of yours and his essence after throughly fucking you. This guy is NOT disgusted at all. He has dealt with worser fluids.
D = Dirty secret a dirty secret of his
Loves making you cry during sex. No, not in the physical harming way but when he overstimulates you. Hitting that g-spot with his fingers everytime, you'd clench his shoulders with tight nails as you cry out his name. You'd squirt all over with tears falling down your cheeks and he'd continue to hit that spot. You'd cry, cry, cry but never tell him to stop, stop, stop.
E = Experience how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?
Okay, this is probably just me but he'd be a rookie at sex before meeting you. No man is going to be experienced without physical proof. He'd be hooking himself up with whores to make up for that newbie experience. It's normal in the military, to get a pent-up relief in whores after a hard mission. But after meeting you, he's already thoroughly experienced fucking those whores before putting those skills on you, leaving your eyes white and sheets drenched with essence. No, he doesn't ever grant himself feelings for whores. He'd spent sex his whole life with his long-time lover, but in the meantime he'll spend quarter of his life with hook-ups so he could polish his skills in bed and pleasure you all night.
F = Favorite position
Depends. Intimacy is quite frequent in your relationship, so I'd say mating press or the classic missionary. But if he feels a bit pent-up and need a quickie before leaving for a quick business outside of town, a sex on the wall would do.
G = Goofy is he more humorous/serious in the moment?
Serious. His time with you is calculated and short, you'd find him looking intensely at you, caressing at your face or hitting that cervix a few times just so he could find a leak of your pleasure. He's an old man now, he's going to be serious :( but doesn't mean he doesn't have humour at one point. Cracking a bad dad joke while you're having sex. Your expression would be deadpan everytime and he cackles to your expression. Seriously, he's not helping when he's laughing during sex.
H = Hair how well groomed is he?
Not too well groomed to the point it's bald and you can't feel that scruffy feeling between your legs when he's hitting that pussy. And he's also not shaving that happy trail (not apart of that dick but aye, I had to) either because he knows you love it. A little peek of that when his shirt rides up as he stretches his arm getting something from a cabinet that's high.
I = Intimacy how is he during the moment?
This is my jam. He'd caress your jaw during missionary or a position where you're the bottom, calling you sweet words. "how'd I get a beautiful lass like you", "if angels call me to heaven as you're here with me, I'd tell them heaven can wait", "your sounds are a melody I wouldn't mind hearing all night". All of those smooth shit. He'd plant a light kiss on your neck, your cheeks, your forehead and your wrists as he admires your pleasurable face when he's hitting that spot. Or when he's hitting it from the back and he'd kiss your nape and smell your hair.
J = Jack off
Similar to prompt letter C, he'd jack off after pulling out from your pussy before releasing it all on it. When you'd tease him by wearing revealing clothes at the club you're at together but he's on NNN, he'd jerk off in the shower because he couldn't take it anymore. Also when you both decided to do mutually masturbation and he'd cum at the sight of your pleasured face and beautiful pussy. I actually don't have an idea for this prompt.
K = Kink his top kink
PISS KINK. Bring me there bring me there making you drink full of water, not letting you pee until you let him fuck you. Of course, you entertained his idea because you're just as depraved and what do we know? You're pissing and squirting all over him, he enjoyed it with the way he licked his lips at the sight. You're not letting him lick you off after because that's dirty and you once threatened by not kissing him at all if he does. He fucked off with an imaginary tail between his legs.
L = Location
Anywhere. Long elaboration short, that man is not going to deny himself a fuck with his beautiful woman.
M = Motivation what turns him on
When you look up at him when he's standing while you're sitting, it'd remind him of when your eyes would admire him when he's on top during sex. Or when you're cooking up something with an apron tied to your waist, he unironically got those urges of a wife kink and he's just sitting there at the dining table, wondering if he should interrupt your time and fuck you on the counter. That man is horny for whatever you do, in short.
N = No something he wouldn’t do
Slap you or choke you. It'd degrade your profile and he wouldn't like that at all, unless he gets the permission from you which you always give him the green light to do so because it'd give you pain. Not the hurtful kind, the pleasurable kind.
O = Oral giving or receiving
Give, give, give, receiving is rare because as always, this man is always between your legs and what could you do? Push him and tell him you want to blow him this time? He wouldn't budge. He just wants to spend time with his baby right between your legs. He doesn't care about you starving yourself from his dick, he needs his baby. You still appreciate his prone to giving you head anytime, you admit.
P = Pace is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?
Based on the context, if it's before a deployment, he'd take his time because that is the only way he'd remind himself of you and your beautiful body. Fast and rough, when you're getting punished for threatening him with divorce. You wouldn't do that though, you just want to get him worked up.
Q = Quickie how often, his opinion on it
He's alright with such when it's before you could get up for your morning breakfast and he's hungry or when he's pent up in a public place and wanted to have a quickie. When you both are blissful in the sheets and he needs something to relief the warm feeling in the pit of his desires? You're gonna get slow, passionate sex not quickies. How often, as low as it gets because he wouldn't deny himself a slow, relaxing time with you.
R = Risk does he take risks?
When it's risking him a tent under his pants, nope. He'd take a risk anytime. Not sure what the content of the prompt meant, but if it is when you both are having sex inside his office and a staff is threateningly close to be barging inside the office, he'd fuck you faster and shush you up with a finger in your mouth.
S = Stamina how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?
He's turning old, I'd say atleast 2 when he's all energized from breakfast and has time to fuck you dumb. I think he lasts a 6 minute long ejaculation included with the vaginal penetration. That's because he likes to take it slow with you, his woman. If he would without the slow lovemaking, it'd be 4 minutes.
T = Toys does he own toys? does he use them?
Does. For me it's one vibrator he'd give a pass for himself to buy. He uses it when he can't rub your clit due to fingerfucking you before a penetrative sex and his fingers has gotten numb. So, he uses a vibrator to do the work. If a dildo? He's not getting that, only his dick, not a plastic, can dick you down. He's quite possessive over small things but you don't mind.
U = Unfair how much he likes to tease you
When you've teased him enough in a day, he'd get payback by edging you all night. Thrusting his hips when you both are connected, you'd cum as quick as you could because he does it too good. But no, you can't come just yet. You teased him all day, he's teasing you all night. So, he pulls out and ended up rubbing his dick between your folds. You can't get the release you want if you're not going to repent, love.
V = Volume how loud is he? If so, what sounds does he make
Not too loud, not too quiet. These sounds are only for his lover, you. If during quickies, you'd definitely hear grunts and shaky sighs behind you as he hits you from the back. But during slow lovemaking, he'd definitely moan in your ear or whines when he's almost reaching his orgasm.
W = Wild card a random headcanon
He'd enjoy getting caught having sex with you in semi-public or not. Banging you in his office, behind the leather couch. Before someone intrudes, intending to send paperwork. But instead of a sight of the Shadow Company's CEO sitting on his office chair looking stern, someone finds a sight for cucks as the CEO bangs his wife. Nope, the staff is not entertaining anything today. They're putting the paperwork on the desk and scurry off as the job didn't include seeing a show.
X = X-ray what’s going on under those clothes
Rationally, I would think he's atleast average and a grower, 5.6-6.4 inches from flaccid length transitioning to erect and 5.+ inches in girth.
Y = Yearning how high is his sex drive?
High as a man on salvia. If he could, he would. But the author has to consider the fact that he's getting old so he gets high as a teenage girl on adderall. Jokes aside, he really does his best. Lovemaking on every place he could find, hands on you everywhere and great intuitive over what you do, like, hate, see, everything. Just so you know the only person that held the depth in his heart, lies you. He's a good man, savannah.
Z = Zzz how quickly he falls asleep afterwards
He falls asleep instantly after piping you down with his babies. But after a rough make up session due to an obstacle between your relationship, he'd definitely be softer and gives you a gentle, thorough aftercare. He can't leave you on the bed contemplating both of your relationship, he needs you to stay sane and in love with him.
a/n — withdrawals killing me, excuse my tardiness on L
— smuff, 4,6K characters, god forbid i dont do rushed endings, inaccurate descriptions (?)
It started when he grew into combat, where efficiency and precise was mandatory. When his name was engraved into the hard copy of his formed Shadows Company, his blade collection's quantity and variety was growing into pair of numbers. Karambit, classic bowie, dagger, you name it. The way he wield it is akin to silk, his fingers groping the handle before he twists his wrist and tipping the blade in a man's guts. It is also the way he commands it under his hand, just like the way he maneuvres you into positions he loved, which you didn't mind at all. It is all apart of his play and you would love to be entangled in his game.
To start this scene, he was playing with one of his favourite blade while also staring at the live baseball game. "Game is getting borin'. You hear me, love?" You hummed to his question as you tend to your chores, which was cleansing the glassed dinnerware. "C'mere." He commands as he hears your disinterest. "I'm busy. What?" You inquired as you tilt your head out of the kitchen area. "It's stealing your attention away. C'mere." Scoffed, you pat your wet hands away with the dish towel before beelining towards Phillip. "You're being dramatic." You stated as he brings your thighs to his lap. "See, honey, we have to have fun together in order to not bring this marriage to shambles."
"We had fun at lunch time. You mostly had the fun." You argued, which fuels his fire of competency to win every arguments. "Ah, don't say it like that. I made you cum many times, no? This tongue," he licks his lips, which you frowned in a joking manner as a reply. "Did wonders on ya. And ya still not satisfied?" "Not that, 's just... you're acting like we didn't have sex in decades." "Felt like it." He sighed as he fondled your thighs.
"Y'know we could do somethin' else..." He concluded before you shot back. "Nuh uh. Dishes ain't done." "Fuck that. Luckily, I ain't deployed yet so we can have fun." He drawled before carrying you into his muscled arms, bringing your whole weight onto his strong embrace. "Honey!" You laughed before smacking his back. "Mm, you ain't leavin'." He mused as he flops your body onto the linen bed sheets.
"We're going to try something. You like, we'll do it often. You don't like, shame." You rolled your eyes before inquiring about his idea. "See, we're going to test my blade." "Fuck off, I'm not your enemy for you to be piercing my skin off." You joked. "I'll do it slow, intimate, y' can even say the safe word!" You shook your head insistently before backing off. "See baby, this isn't for you to decide. We're going to test it whether you like it or not." He is manipulative at times. Trust, it is all apart of the play and consenting. You love it that he shows his true nature in and out of his workplace. It is also what fuels you to marry him. because you're just as evil. "Fine." "Ah, that's more like it." He nodded in satisfaction before crowding you into your shared pillows, his gaze piercing you down.
"Tell me what you're going to do to me, honey." You commanded, he answered. "'m gonna strip you down 'till your naked." He stated as he strikes your bra and short shorts down with his knife. "Then, I'm gonna test this skin out. See if it's strong enough for my blade's sharpness." He is a man true to his words as he slowly drags the tip of his switchblade to your thigh, blobs of blood tipping down underneath you. "Mark you as mine. P," he drags the letter down with his fingers on the handle of the blade, marking you exactly to his initial on your fat. You huffed and whined from the pain, albeit biting your lip from how ecstasy the feel of him tearing your skin out. "G." He resumes by continuing the 'G' beside the letter 'P'. "Beautiful." You stared at the artwork in fascination, your fingers clenching at the sheets in arousement. Unbeknownst to you, he also marked himself with your initials.
You get to introduce yourself to his marked thigh when he suddenly strips himself down to nothing. You gasped. "See for yourself, baby. You're mine, I'm all yours." You stared at it with gleam, caressing it with your fingers. You don't even ask when, you're just honored he's marking himself as yours. "Phil, 's beautiful." "I know. You're beautiful." He winked before kissing you up with his lips. You replied to the kiss by matching his intensity, bite and suck. "'M hard. Let's fuck." "Just when I thought 's all soft and passionate, you are always here to ruin it old man!" He laughed your statement off before he suddenly pounces you under his weight, bringing your thighs to either side of his hips. No warning, he entered your flower with the swift of a thrust. No lube, you were already wet from his foreplay of slicing your skin. "Ah." You both resonate the sound, your nails tightening on the skin of his back. Meanwhile, his palms coddled your rear as he slowly thrusts his hips. "So tight, beautiful. You're all mine?" You nodded to answer his inquire. "Always." Moonlight glowing beneath the curtains amidst the lovemaking, Mr Graves and Mrs Graves is united between the sheets in the end.
Phillip Graves and his need to eat you out everywhere, everyday, everytime. On the couch, the dining table, the backseat of his car, and the classic, bed.
Starting from the bottom, he'd grab your legs, kissing every spot on it. Your feet, thin ankles that's affected by his kisses. Knees that'd be smothered in his wet, sloppy kisses. Afterwards, he'd grew bolder by the time he has reached above your knees. Grabbing your thighs while your ankles sat on his shoulders, he'd kiss those supple thighs. Biting them, while meeting your hazy gaze. You felt heated by his affections, let alone when his mouth get to your flower. When the time finally comes, he'd first admire his gift with his aroused gaze. You'd be clenching the sheets as he stares, stares, and stares. Every moment you'd be squirming from the lack of simulation, but he wouldn't be that harsh on his sweet flower.
He'd dive in with a lick of his tongue, testing your honey between those thighs. You moan, head up as you faced the ceiling. He'd coo at your womanhood, while breathing into you. He'd trace your innie/outie with his fingers before licking into your supple hole, pressing the palm of his tounge onto it. "Phillip..." you cried out his name as your thighs tried to clench around his head, practically crushing him. He didn't allow that when he restrained your heavy thighs with his big, meaty hands, constraining your thighs to one spot only. "Stay still, honey." He coos before diving again, his sweet mouth on you while his nose mounts your clit. You moaned with the added sensation, practically flooding with arousement. Fortunately, he'd slurp up those juices before it could escape your womanhood. By the time he makes you cum, your eyes would be full of tears and your hands aching from clenching the sheets. But the result?
You'd be satisfied, drowned in his love as he let your thighs go from his grasp and climbing the bed to kiss your lips. His calloused hands would grasp your jaw before his lips, still coated in your juices intertwined with yours. You'd be tasting your sweet honey against his puckered lips before moaning as you realized he's covered in you. He doesn't seem to care at all when he unbuckles his belt and letting you see his excitement. The night is still young and you're yet to be fully exhausted by all of the fun he's going to give you.
