Natalie's about to find out one of Dorian's little kinks: he adores it when someone screams his name. Hearing his name in her voice is enticing as hell, making his prick strain against his hotpants as it happens. And with every gasp of his name, he rewards Natalie in return, continuing to eat her out while stroking the inside of her thigh with a free hand.
As far as he's concerned? He's not stopping until she's past the edge.
It doesn't take long. Soon she's shuddering head to toe, his name trailing into a long, loud cry. She's breathless, weak-limbed, and goddamn satisfied.
"Wouldn't expect... any less... from Dorian fucking Gray." She laughs, low and dreamy.
His cock is pressing against what passes for his trousers, fit to burst, but Dorian ignores it for the moment. Instead, he lets out a small little chuckle before moving himself out from beneath Natalie's skirts, looking over with an annoyingly smug little smile.
"I've had eons of practice, darling. And you're always welcome to darken my doorstep should you want some real fun."
He leans in to give her a quick, gentle kiss on the lips.
She trails her fingers down his cheek, the strength returning to her with every breath, her mind still processing how phenomenal he was.
"I might only have decades, but I think I can hit the mark."
Marksmanship analogies are apt because she is an absolutely killer (literally) marksman.
She sits up, grabs the lapels of his little jacket thing, and tugs him up so they can trade places. She's not at her most graceful with one hand still not at its best, but she doesn't need both of them to pull down those ridiculous pants. She has teeth, for fuck's sake.misty
Once his pants are off, she strokes his cock, fingers trailing lightly down from the head, until she gets a firm but not crushing grip on the shaft. Then she puts the head in her mouth, and strokes it with her tongue, hand giving soft little up and down movements to start.
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As far as he's concerned? He's not stopping until she's past the edge.
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"Wouldn't expect... any less... from Dorian fucking Gray." She laughs, low and dreamy.
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"I've had eons of practice, darling. And you're always welcome to darken my doorstep should you want some real fun."
He leans in to give her a quick, gentle kiss on the lips.
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"I might only have decades, but I think I can hit the mark."
Marksmanship analogies are apt because she is an absolutely killer (literally) marksman.
She sits up, grabs the lapels of his little jacket thing, and tugs him up so they can trade places. She's not at her most graceful with one hand still not at its best, but she doesn't need both of them to pull down those ridiculous pants. She has teeth, for fuck's sake.
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"A spitfire like yourself? You'll be phenomenal."
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Once his pants are off, she strokes his cock, fingers trailing lightly down from the head, until she gets a firm but not crushing grip on the shaft. Then she puts the head in her mouth, and strokes it with her tongue, hand giving soft little up and down movements to start.