10-16-2017, 12:31 AM
isobell
His taller and heavier body, his scaled mass, his overwhelming scent is pressing her towards the tree line where he makes good on her idle words (she knows she must be careful what she whispers in the rain even with boys who are not stranger). She side steps, allows him to drive her like the animals they are, allows him to dominate her for mere moments as he finally pins her against the tree, bits of wet bark and dirt marking the white patch of her right shoulder.
His words are nearly a rasp but they are meant for her dark ears alone as he is pressing against her with his weight, his muzzle remembering the place he had gripped her so firmly. Her skin responds with a shiver to his touch. Isobell realizes, rather clearly, what he murmurs against her skin.
With a slow pull, her hide raking against the tree bark, she slides away from his grip (like prying a mouse away from a cat). The painted mare with the quicksilver eyes catches her hips between his chest and the tree, pinned once again, she looks over her left shoulder to meet his gaze. "Perhaps it's best we make our way to Loess." Her voice becomes matter-of-factly as she waits for him to be the gentleman and release his grip upon her hips.
Never had Isobell felt her desire balk before but she knows that she does not want to give herself to Ivar...not yet and certainly not here despite the moan he pulled from her lips or the moisture between her legs. And so now, as the pale and dark man holds her, the young princess waits for him to release her, knowing he would.
His words are nearly a rasp but they are meant for her dark ears alone as he is pressing against her with his weight, his muzzle remembering the place he had gripped her so firmly. Her skin responds with a shiver to his touch. Isobell realizes, rather clearly, what he murmurs against her skin.
With a slow pull, her hide raking against the tree bark, she slides away from his grip (like prying a mouse away from a cat). The painted mare with the quicksilver eyes catches her hips between his chest and the tree, pinned once again, she looks over her left shoulder to meet his gaze. "Perhaps it's best we make our way to Loess." Her voice becomes matter-of-factly as she waits for him to be the gentleman and release his grip upon her hips.
Never had Isobell felt her desire balk before but she knows that she does not want to give herself to Ivar...not yet and certainly not here despite the moan he pulled from her lips or the moisture between her legs. And so now, as the pale and dark man holds her, the young princess waits for him to release her, knowing he would.
i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea