[Oh, it is such a sweet victory to hear that word whispered out above him; Rip has no doubt that the echo of his praise only further solidifies just how good she thinks this all to be, that her thoughts have lassoed the first phrase they've found, tossed it back out because now she can't be bothered to question, to wonder, to doubt. She gives herself over to certainty, and to him, her fingers tightening in his hair but even as she keeps him against her, Rip is the one who will set Peggy ablaze.
Her thoughts unknown, but perhaps not to odd as she might first think them to be. It is that same man who kneels before her now, presses his mouth against her, and with her heady taste rich on his tongue seeks out more of those whimpers and cries. He explores with tongue and lips alike, pushes past her folds to find each spot, each stroke that makes her breath hitch, that has her muscles tighten beneath his hands, that has her tugging insistently on his locks. He takes her measure and calculates, determines the slow and steady pace on which he'll have her break apart for him.
But he means to savor this; they are not drunken and desperate as they had been the first time, and Rip finds his own pleasure in how Peggy shivers, how she gasps and moans for him. He drags a teasing path around her clit at first, leaving the bundle of nerves untouched while the rest builds her higher. She moves her hips, only just, but Rip pulls back a fraction in response, even knowing she won't be able to stay still for long. He wants her to think she must, to feel that bond of mental restraint, and as he kisses and licks a path to her opening, lets his tongue delve deeper inside her, he tightens his hold on her legs, as if to warn, as if to better trap her there.]
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Her thoughts unknown, but perhaps not to odd as she might first think them to be. It is that same man who kneels before her now, presses his mouth against her, and with her heady taste rich on his tongue seeks out more of those whimpers and cries. He explores with tongue and lips alike, pushes past her folds to find each spot, each stroke that makes her breath hitch, that has her muscles tighten beneath his hands, that has her tugging insistently on his locks. He takes her measure and calculates, determines the slow and steady pace on which he'll have her break apart for him.
But he means to savor this; they are not drunken and desperate as they had been the first time, and Rip finds his own pleasure in how Peggy shivers, how she gasps and moans for him. He drags a teasing path around her clit at first, leaving the bundle of nerves untouched while the rest builds her higher. She moves her hips, only just, but Rip pulls back a fraction in response, even knowing she won't be able to stay still for long. He wants her to think she must, to feel that bond of mental restraint, and as he kisses and licks a path to her opening, lets his tongue delve deeper inside her, he tightens his hold on her legs, as if to warn, as if to better trap her there.]