Her head swam. It was hard to think, desire breaking over her like the tide on the beach. Each new wave made her thrust impulsively, harder, harder, satisfying the building urgency in her clit for friction, pressure. She wanted. But she was nervous. Did the terms still apply, were the decisions still hers? Did she want them to be? She could sense how delicious this was for Eric; heard it in his soft grunts, the deliberateness of his motions mirroring her own care so far. His dick was filling out, nice and steady and so hot against her thigh. Amber wanted this to be good for him. Like, really good. What he wanted too, good. But, oh god, she really wanted this, and would he, too? Would it be okay to ask, to change the direction? Not the mood, she wanted to keep that, it was bringing her to a slow, glowing burn, but it'd be different. Amber was hardly aware of her gasps as she ground more and more, her whole body, not just her hips, but shoulders and spine and ass cooperating in that essential up and down, up and down. His heartbeat reverberated deep in her, through the pulse of his dick, of his whole body. Jesus.
"Eric," she said around shallow breaths. Found his face in the dark, rubbing one hand against his cheek, her other one supporting her weight against the mattress, to bring down her mound more heavily down against his thigh. She was so wet, and his skin was slick, too slick for just his sweat. She must be rubbing off on him. "How'd you feel about--" Amber looked down, raising an eyebrow suggestively, before realizing that if she couldn't see him, then he couldn't see her. Waited a moment before speaking again, moaning at an especially pleasing brush. He'd enjoyed it in the past. Did it Thursday, said he'd wanted to do it in the restaurant. Tried it last night. She'd never been comfortable, it was too intimate, too much, and always before she was ready. Eric rushed into it, did it without her asking, when she wanted something else. But that must mean he liked it. Craved it. And now, at this precise instant, she did, too. Wanted it with every mind-melting throb emanating from her clit. "I need you to go down me. Please." It came out as a whisper, not the statement she'd intended.
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"Eric," she said around shallow breaths. Found his face in the dark, rubbing one hand against his cheek, her other one supporting her weight against the mattress, to bring down her mound more heavily down against his thigh. She was so wet, and his skin was slick, too slick for just his sweat. She must be rubbing off on him. "How'd you feel about--" Amber looked down, raising an eyebrow suggestively, before realizing that if she couldn't see him, then he couldn't see her. Waited a moment before speaking again, moaning at an especially pleasing brush. He'd enjoyed it in the past. Did it Thursday, said he'd wanted to do it in the restaurant. Tried it last night. She'd never been comfortable, it was too intimate, too much, and always before she was ready. Eric rushed into it, did it without her asking, when she wanted something else. But that must mean he liked it. Craved it. And now, at this precise instant, she did, too. Wanted it with every mind-melting throb emanating from her clit. "I need you to go down me. Please." It came out as a whisper, not the statement she'd intended.