"I've missed him too," she whispered into Kell's hair, and shifted as he did, allowing him close. He pressed tightly to her and she shivered, turning her head to press her face into Kell's throat for a moment, the muscles of her thighs and hips tightening. He slipped his knee between her legs and she pulled back to watch him, her body moving to press back against him. Like a woman starved, she craved every scrap of physical affection he gave her, and there was no shortage of that.
When he spoke again, Neria tipped her head to look at him better, and she reached for his face. She brushed a few strands back that had fallen forward near his eyes, and swiped her thumb over his cheek. "No, we never did. Why would we have? I--" She never told him how she felt. Had shied away. Foolish, too. There were so many things she never said. "I don't know what you like either," she pointed out softly. "But what I like..."
It was strange. Her thoughts caught again on the last time and she struggled to pull them from the mire. And when she did, her thoughts did not go to Archer, oddly enough. They went to someone else. "I like rough things," she admitted. "I don't think that's any surprise to you. I've...wanted harder things, things that push me over the edge, because I want to feel alive again." Kell would understand now, she felt. "Slow and steady, pulling me apart. Making me beg for one more release, so I can stop thinking." And stop remembering the pain and the anger and the loss she always seemed to carry, the static and white noise that always lingered in the back of her mind. Her gaze seemed distant as she tried to remember the things that made her happy, the few times she'd had anything before it all became duty again.
"I... This is difficult. I didn't think it would be," she said, and finally smiled, focusing on him once more, her fingers kneading at the back of his neck where her hand had settled unconsciously. "I have a great deal of stamina, so whatever it is, it has to be...rigorous and thorough. Very few people manage it." She leaned closer so she could kiss him again, even knowing she would taste herself. "I like your magic on me," she whispered against his lips. "I like your mouth. I like your hands and I like how strong you are. That you keep me from moving, because you know I'll try to unwind you first. And I will, if you let me." Her hands were already straying down his chest again, a hint of heat, but then she drifted two fingers down his sternum, and the magic that was on her fingers was alive and vibrant and raw.
no subject
When he spoke again, Neria tipped her head to look at him better, and she reached for his face. She brushed a few strands back that had fallen forward near his eyes, and swiped her thumb over his cheek. "No, we never did. Why would we have? I--" She never told him how she felt. Had shied away. Foolish, too. There were so many things she never said. "I don't know what you like either," she pointed out softly. "But what I like..."
It was strange. Her thoughts caught again on the last time and she struggled to pull them from the mire. And when she did, her thoughts did not go to Archer, oddly enough. They went to someone else. "I like rough things," she admitted. "I don't think that's any surprise to you. I've...wanted harder things, things that push me over the edge, because I want to feel alive again." Kell would understand now, she felt. "Slow and steady, pulling me apart. Making me beg for one more release, so I can stop thinking." And stop remembering the pain and the anger and the loss she always seemed to carry, the static and white noise that always lingered in the back of her mind. Her gaze seemed distant as she tried to remember the things that made her happy, the few times she'd had anything before it all became duty again.
"I... This is difficult. I didn't think it would be," she said, and finally smiled, focusing on him once more, her fingers kneading at the back of his neck where her hand had settled unconsciously. "I have a great deal of stamina, so whatever it is, it has to be...rigorous and thorough. Very few people manage it." She leaned closer so she could kiss him again, even knowing she would taste herself. "I like your magic on me," she whispered against his lips. "I like your mouth. I like your hands and I like how strong you are. That you keep me from moving, because you know I'll try to unwind you first. And I will, if you let me." Her hands were already straying down his chest again, a hint of heat, but then she drifted two fingers down his sternum, and the magic that was on her fingers was alive and vibrant and raw.