( with each breath, she shifts on his lap, huffing a bit as she tries to balance her position with the maximum skin-to-skin ratio; it takes a few minutes before she feels comfortable enough to settle in place. she winds up turned in, enough so that she's practically laying across him, one arm propping herself up on the armrest of the couch, her back facing out towards the rest of the party space. it gives a little bit of privacy to the hand so slowly creeping up her leg, slipping under the hem of her dress to palm her thigh, obscured from public view by the skirt itself.
in response to his question, kimberly lets out a slow exhale, eyes fluttering closed as the chill spreads through her limbs, not quite cold yet, but thankfully she's no longer burning up from the inside out either. ) You always feel good, ( breathed out, a quiet hum of pleasure as his fingertips press in a little against her skin. a pulse of cold, through her leg, helps a bit. she's still warm, though. the knit fabric of her dress weighs heavy against her limbs, trapping any heat and preventing it from escaping into the air above, and even though it's shifted up to expose a little more of her legs, her arms and chest are still particularly warm.
if these gentle, patient touches settle her, if earlier touches — her hand on his face, the press of his forehead against hers, his mouth against her neck — had felt good, it stands to reason that something that touches a little more will feel better. like lifting her head in order to press her lips to his, slow and soft as she waits with baited breath to see just how the touch will make her feel. )
yr not wrong
in response to his question, kimberly lets out a slow exhale, eyes fluttering closed as the chill spreads through her limbs, not quite cold yet, but thankfully she's no longer burning up from the inside out either. ) You always feel good, ( breathed out, a quiet hum of pleasure as his fingertips press in a little against her skin. a pulse of cold, through her leg, helps a bit. she's still warm, though. the knit fabric of her dress weighs heavy against her limbs, trapping any heat and preventing it from escaping into the air above, and even though it's shifted up to expose a little more of her legs, her arms and chest are still particularly warm.
if these gentle, patient touches settle her, if earlier touches — her hand on his face, the press of his forehead against hers, his mouth against her neck — had felt good, it stands to reason that something that touches a little more will feel better. like lifting her head in order to press her lips to his, slow and soft as she waits with baited breath to see just how the touch will make her feel. )