[ It would be one thing if Greer were keeping score in her head, running up that mental tally of transgressions and assigning an appropriate punishment for each one in response — but the truth is she's still figuring out how to do this, embrace her more dominant side with someone in a way that comes naturally and doesn't feel like she's contorting herself to fit a kind of mold.
Beyond that, Embry is just a walking distraction for her — from the piercing blue of his eyes to the visible tent in his trousers. He even looks more handsome when he's blushing, something she didn't think was possible until she put him in the ideal position for her to bear witness to it. His breath stops, as does hers, but then he's sinking down onto the floor, the audible clink of his belt coming undone punctuating the silence that falls over the room — at least, before Greer remembers herself, and hums a noise of approval. ]
Better. [ She can't praise him too readily, not yet, not when she's made all of this about him needing to earn as much as another inch of bared skin from her, but she does stop backing up, gaze briefly straying in the direction of the small bench at the foot of her bed.
It's there that she assumes her next perch, knees tucked together while she swivels to face him head-on — and then she slowly lets them fall open, affording him a front-row seat to the white lace underneath, the fabric already visibly damp against her folds. It's too slow to be written off as accidental, like she hasn't meant for him to see it, so she thumbs open another button in the meantime, wanting to know if she can make the muscle in his jaw tic a little. ]
You know where your hands are meant to be. [ Palms up, on top of his thighs — where Ash always insists she keeps hers while she's kneeling for him, no matter what he's in the middle of doing to her. ]
no subject
Beyond that, Embry is just a walking distraction for her — from the piercing blue of his eyes to the visible tent in his trousers. He even looks more handsome when he's blushing, something she didn't think was possible until she put him in the ideal position for her to bear witness to it. His breath stops, as does hers, but then he's sinking down onto the floor, the audible clink of his belt coming undone punctuating the silence that falls over the room — at least, before Greer remembers herself, and hums a noise of approval. ]
Better. [ She can't praise him too readily, not yet, not when she's made all of this about him needing to earn as much as another inch of bared skin from her, but she does stop backing up, gaze briefly straying in the direction of the small bench at the foot of her bed.
It's there that she assumes her next perch, knees tucked together while she swivels to face him head-on — and then she slowly lets them fall open, affording him a front-row seat to the white lace underneath, the fabric already visibly damp against her folds. It's too slow to be written off as accidental, like she hasn't meant for him to see it, so she thumbs open another button in the meantime, wanting to know if she can make the muscle in his jaw tic a little. ]
You know where your hands are meant to be. [ Palms up, on top of his thighs — where Ash always insists she keeps hers while she's kneeling for him, no matter what he's in the middle of doing to her. ]