Page 116 of Her Sloth

“You wouldn’t need a second residence,” she finally says, biting her lip. “My house is big enough.”

“Are you asking me to move in before we even had sex?” I ask her with a chuckle, and she blushes with her entire face.

“I—“ she stammers. “It was just in case—if⁠—“

It dawns on me in that moment that the big, aggressive Rottweiler she pretends to be is actually a way to protect herself.

“You haven’t had sex with anyone else than her,” I say, not asking, but stating.

She nods almost invisibly.

I lean in on her.

Brush through her hair to grasp her face with one hand.

Trail my lips over her neck up to her ear.

Nibble at it.

Brush with my cheek over hers until I reach her dry lips with mine.

I kiss her with tongue.

Trail with my hand down from her hair, to her collarbone, over her chest, and slip my hand underneath her hoodie.

“You tell me when to stop,” I say as I push my hand up and massage her breast.

No bra.

I smirk.

Of course not, little tomboy she is.

She gasps.

Her breathing fastens, with her hot breath caressing my lips.

I play with her nipple until it hardens.

Kiss over her cheek to her neck, and she bares it to me by letting her head fall back against the white metal of the letter L.

I nibble over her neck.

Lick it.

Bite her earlobe.

She shivers.

Followed by a soft moan.

It touches me somewhere so deep within—pushes me into a different state of mind.

“I usually like it rough,” I whisper in her ear. “I like it when you call me names and hit me, bite me, push me beyond. But for today, I will be soft. I will be, because I want you to feel what I feel for you.”

She breathes in sharply and shivers again.

I smirk, because my words have this wonderful effect on her.