Skirt hitched around her waist, panties nagging at tender skin, body still encased in far too much fabric, Regina still felt more sexual power radiating off them than she could remember ever experiencing. Not even when she'd been at her dungeon queen worst had she felt this... full. And it wasn't her power, nothing she used or took, but everything he gave her.
His complete and willing submission to her slightest desire--it rushed to her head, ran along her arms and her spine, careened down her legs, and even though nothing of him touched her but his cock and his hips between her thighs, sensation ran rampant, electrified her with every slight shift of her weight over him. He might as well have been touching her everywhere for how she felt him.
Which made it hard to take this slow, to savor the fullness, emotional and physical of riding him--for her own pleasure, yes, but somehow even though he gave himself up to her and she took everything he gave, it was for him. Every time she tightened around him, every time she rocked her hips to take him that much deeper, every time she paused, hands on his chest to tip her head back and just enjoy--it was about him, too, about giving him the freedom to just be and feel and not need to do a damned thing but be hers.
Which was why she forced herself to wait, to hang onto her orgasm for as long as she could, because those moments, the ones in the shower when he'd finally given himself over to his own pleasure but he wasn't there yet, they were the ones where she felt completely free--and if she could give that to him, she desperately wanted to.
Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six
His complete and willing submission to her slightest desire--it rushed to her head, ran along her arms and her spine, careened down her legs, and even though nothing of him touched her but his cock and his hips between her thighs, sensation ran rampant, electrified her with every slight shift of her weight over him. He might as well have been touching her everywhere for how she felt him.
Which made it hard to take this slow, to savor the fullness, emotional and physical of riding him--for her own pleasure, yes, but somehow even though he gave himself up to her and she took everything he gave, it was for him. Every time she tightened around him, every time she rocked her hips to take him that much deeper, every time she paused, hands on his chest to tip her head back and just enjoy--it was about him, too, about giving him the freedom to just be and feel and not need to do a damned thing but be hers.
Which was why she forced herself to wait, to hang onto her orgasm for as long as she could, because those moments, the ones in the shower when he'd finally given himself over to his own pleasure but he wasn't there yet, they were the ones where she felt completely free--and if she could give that to him, she desperately wanted to.