She might punch him if the words didn’t somehow work for her.
On the run for years, Sylvie had never bothered much with sex. She’d had partners, even a mailman once, as she had joked to Loki, but sex had rarely been high on her list of priorities and, when she had felt the need, it had been rushed, hurried, rarely anything more than a race to the end. A release. Everything was always dangerous at all times, she never really had a chance to rest, and even in the midst of sex, she was on guard. Prepared for danger.
In Darrow, for the first time, she gets to enjoy herself. Stretched out on the stairs, Sylvie opens and closes her fists, liking the way her bones and muscles move in the tight grip of Bucky’s metal hand. She could probably get free if she really wanted to, but she doesn’t.
“I’m the best,” she teases, breathless, laughing, a glint of danger in her eye. She drives one heel harder into the muscle of Bucky’s ass. “Aren’t I?”
no subject
On the run for years, Sylvie had never bothered much with sex. She’d had partners, even a mailman once, as she had joked to Loki, but sex had rarely been high on her list of priorities and, when she had felt the need, it had been rushed, hurried, rarely anything more than a race to the end. A release. Everything was always dangerous at all times, she never really had a chance to rest, and even in the midst of sex, she was on guard. Prepared for danger.
In Darrow, for the first time, she gets to enjoy herself. Stretched out on the stairs, Sylvie opens and closes her fists, liking the way her bones and muscles move in the tight grip of Bucky’s metal hand. She could probably get free if she really wanted to, but she doesn’t.
“I’m the best,” she teases, breathless, laughing, a glint of danger in her eye. She drives one heel harder into the muscle of Bucky’s ass. “Aren’t I?”