[Suspiciously malleable for someone so recently resistant and typically combative, Johanna is easily moved. No protest, no resistance. One shuddery breath when he pulls out, loose-limbed, pulled to the edge of the table like she's barely conscious.
She certainly isn't too conscious of his approach toward irritation.
But when he pushes in again, she moans, loud--not because of him; in fact, it might seem too loud, too enthusiastic. A reaction to two separate sensations, one here and one registered somewhere else, a pinch at her nipple that makes her arch her back against him. Good timing: it pushes her against his thumb, arches her right into that touch--dizzying, and this moan is more for him, more desperate than usual. The sensation of his thumb pressed against her--of his cock--and then of fingers, unseen, brushed at hipbones, and a voice in her ear--
Blindly, she grabs at Erik's forearm, like to steady herself, or to get more--pushed against him, deep. Even more desperate when she moans, again. Maybe he's just that good.]
no subject
She certainly isn't too conscious of his approach toward irritation.
But when he pushes in again, she moans, loud--not because of him; in fact, it might seem too loud, too enthusiastic. A reaction to two separate sensations, one here and one registered somewhere else, a pinch at her nipple that makes her arch her back against him. Good timing: it pushes her against his thumb, arches her right into that touch--dizzying, and this moan is more for him, more desperate than usual. The sensation of his thumb pressed against her--of his cock--and then of fingers, unseen, brushed at hipbones, and a voice in her ear--
Blindly, she grabs at Erik's forearm, like to steady herself, or to get more--pushed against him, deep. Even more desperate when she moans, again. Maybe he's just that good.]