@ Dandy Darling;
Emily smiled when she saw the two ducks, floating as though they'd never quarreled in the first place. Yes, it looked like a little lover's spat indeed. When she met eyes with Oliver, she couldn't help but widen her smile. His own was contagious, and it made her happy to see that he was relaxed, joyful even, especially at her hand. She'd told him over dinner she intended to change his attitude, and she'd meant it. "I know, but things get in the way, or I get busy, or I simply don't make the time." She sighed as she leaned her head back down, resting in the crook of his neck. "One day I'll make the time," she promised, because she knew her time was limited. It made her sad, to think he had all the time in the world and she didn't. She would have to get older, and he wouldn't. She wondered if he chose this, or if someone had chosen for him, but she didn't want to ask, so she simply reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. She wanted to enjoy this one day, here in the garden, because there will come a time when she wouldn't be able to anymore.
--
Brayden let out a grunt, pleased with how undone he had made her. He lived to please her, always to please her, and he felt satisfied with her shortness of breath and the way she practically lost her grip on him, lost in a sea of pleasure. "Ready," he repeated, sliding his fingers out of her to grasp the waistband of her panties, sliding them down and tossing them aside with the rest of their clothes. He lifted his hips, pulling his own boxers down, adding them, too, to the ever-growing collection of clothing on the floor. He adjusted them, holding her hips right to his as she positioned herself above him. He grasped her hands, intertwining them before he held the onto the bed, groans of her name spilling from his mouth as he filled her, intensifying the pleasure in his stomach. Callie was his, and she always would be. He wouldn't give that up for anything in the world.
Emily smiled when she saw the two ducks, floating as though they'd never quarreled in the first place. Yes, it looked like a little lover's spat indeed. When she met eyes with Oliver, she couldn't help but widen her smile. His own was contagious, and it made her happy to see that he was relaxed, joyful even, especially at her hand. She'd told him over dinner she intended to change his attitude, and she'd meant it. "I know, but things get in the way, or I get busy, or I simply don't make the time." She sighed as she leaned her head back down, resting in the crook of his neck. "One day I'll make the time," she promised, because she knew her time was limited. It made her sad, to think he had all the time in the world and she didn't. She would have to get older, and he wouldn't. She wondered if he chose this, or if someone had chosen for him, but she didn't want to ask, so she simply reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. She wanted to enjoy this one day, here in the garden, because there will come a time when she wouldn't be able to anymore.
--
Brayden let out a grunt, pleased with how undone he had made her. He lived to please her, always to please her, and he felt satisfied with her shortness of breath and the way she practically lost her grip on him, lost in a sea of pleasure. "Ready," he repeated, sliding his fingers out of her to grasp the waistband of her panties, sliding them down and tossing them aside with the rest of their clothes. He lifted his hips, pulling his own boxers down, adding them, too, to the ever-growing collection of clothing on the floor. He adjusted them, holding her hips right to his as she positioned herself above him. He grasped her hands, intertwining them before he held the onto the bed, groans of her name spilling from his mouth as he filled her, intensifying the pleasure in his stomach. Callie was his, and she always would be. He wouldn't give that up for anything in the world.
January 2nd, 2015 at 02:20am