i might as well ...

I FEEL IT ALL

THE WINGS ARE WIDE
WILD CARD INSIDE , WILD CARD INSIDE
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There was no denying the intoxicating feeling of Caelen's fingers brushing against her, his hands running through her hair, and his body well against her own. Even so, this was nothing compared to the pressure laid against her flesh as yet more skin was exposed and he took hold, his fingers dragging against the taught canvas and nails etching lines of scarlet across her back. He returned her kiss, full and wanton, no longer holding back for whoever knew what God forsaken purpose, and finally, finally, he let himself go, and gave into the exacerbating pleasure that came before the fall. His fingers swept over her, his palms hot, as if there would never be enough time to cover every inch, every molecule, and Aife gasped against his lips, her head light and dizzy, eyes squeezing shut then bursting open in surprise again and again.

Aife trembled, from head to toe, her blood convulsing within her, and she ran her hands heavily over the vampire's form, grasping here and there, enjoying the feeling of his flesh gathered beneath her own. It was all she could do to not tear him to bits, beneath her attentions, and though he was quite possibly harder with her than he needed to be, she enjoyed it all the more. There was something about lacking the reservation to take care that left her delighted and nervous, as if there were no cares in the world and all they had to do was find the greatest pleasure they could. Her lips battled against his own, tongues swirling and clashing, frenzied, and she gripped his jaw to keep him closer. It was then that she lost any sense of modesty and control and she cried against his lips, the sound airy and echoing.

Caelen's hand left her neck, and it slid against her side, down and over the curve of her hip. In one swift motion, he hefted her onto his hips, and Aife found herself face to face with him. Her fingers laced through his flaxen curls and grasped hold, and then they were moving at a speed that in humanity would have left her dizzy and incapable of further movement. But now she was clinging to him, her legs tightening about him and lips still surging relentlessly. She heard the screech of wood against polished stone, and her back met the tough fabric of an overstuffed couch. Fingers fled from her legs to her hips, gripping tightly to her blazing flesh, and rough denim wore against her thighs as she continued to grip with her legs.

For one second, Aife's mind paused to caution her on the falcuty of reticence and innocence, but she was too frantic and lascivious to dwell very long. Instead she pulled on Caelen, her lips wide against his, futile and pressing. Her hands roamed over him, tearing at the cloth of his shirt; pops resounded and her fingers pulled away at it till they could glide along him, finding purchase at the soft curve of his waist. Lips leaving his, she kissed along the line of his jaw, over the hot bare flesh of his neck and pursed against the furrow of his collar bone. The more his hands played along her flesh, gripping and stroking, the less of the silken cloth she could feel, and she arched against him, breathing hard, her hands pulling him to her and begging, absolutely begging.