(by Anna Inghart) her hair is dark even through the delicate fabric, and when he slides a gentle hand past the lace and elastic, he finds her hot and damp and keen, hips tilting to slide herself against his fingers. she presses a small, chaste kiss to the square of his jaw and then to the tip of his chin, and he crooks a finger and gazes at the crinkle of her smile, the white of her teeth, the swell of her lip.  he thumbs the rise of her hipbone; a tiny exhale, and she sinks onto his finger, enveloping, easily inviting. she clenches and shifts. he kisses her cheek. 

(by Anna Inghart)

her hair is dark even through the delicate fabric, and when he slides a gentle hand past the lace and elastic, he finds her hot and damp and keen, hips tilting to slide herself against his fingers. she presses a small, chaste kiss to the square of his jaw and then to the tip of his chin, and he crooks a finger and gazes at the crinkle of her smile, the white of her teeth, the swell of her lip. 

he thumbs the rise of her hipbone; a tiny exhale, and she sinks onto his finger, enveloping, easily inviting. she clenches and shifts. he kisses her cheek. 

07.27.10
dropshadow
A