Movement

“Ugh, you’re sweating on me.”

“It’s a million degrees in here; what do you expect?”

“You’re like an animal.  You’re dripping.  What the hell?”

“Shut up.”

He leaned down, his arms bending slightly at the elbows, and pressed his mouth to hers.

“You shut up,” she mumbled against his lips.

Slowly, he brings his hips back and then moves forward again.  A soft groan slips past her lips. His nose nestles into her neck and he inhales the sweet scent of her perfume, light and airy. 

“Why don’t you make me?”

“Fuck you.”

He nods, his hair tickling her cheek as his nose skims her neck.  He moves into her again.  The chuckle that follows her moan vibrates across her chest and sets goosebumps against her skin.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You like it.”

Her head lolls back and her back arches as he rocks gently.  His lips move against her throat in secret whispers.

“What are you saying?”

“It’s private.”

She can feel his lips upturn, as his hands trail down her stomach and creep along the small space between them.  Her breath quickens.  A soft gasp as that hand curves around her thigh and grips.

“Neanderthal.”

“Harpy.”

“Fuck you.”

His skin touches hers and then it’s gone.  On hers again and then gone.  Fingers dig into her thigh and she bites her lip to keep quiet.

“I love you, you brute.”

“Miserable wench…I love you.”