"You're succeedi- ah-" And then he's kissing her chest, biting at her, and she finds herself quivering under his touch. It's pathetic, isn't it? Probably. He doesn't mind, though, and she can't find it within herself to be embarrassed.

Her hands find his back, shirt hiked up, just so she can drag her fingers down, nails scraping.

This is different. He's gotten... better? He's taking an interest beyond just rushing to have her knickers off. She tries not to get her hopes too high up, but it's hard when, well, he is. Such a gorgeous man, and all she wants, at times, is to be under his hands. It feels, for a moment, like what she imagines love might.