He feels similarly. There's something so erotic about screwing her in his bed he can't stand it. Hell, even letting her sleep there after he's had his way with her is more than intense enough. The night after he had her on the couch, the last night he had with her before she went to stay with her mother again, he couldn't help but kiss and touch her while she slept; to bury his face in that neck and breathe in the scent of her skin and know that she was still the same girl who used to beg him for piggyback rides and who came to hide beneath his sheets to keep nightmares at bay.
Luckily for her lifespan, Salome may not be as desperate for stupid risk-taking as her father is--but fucking Richard is a dangerous enough activity all on its own. Catch him on the wrong day--or the right one--and that shit can get scary. Fast. Just ask Delilah. There's been more than one night where she's sincerely wondered whether or not she was going to be alive when he finished with her.
Silly girl. Some women just don't realize they're worth so much more alive.
Richard manages a grin, although it's hard with how much he has to focus on everything and fight back the delirious feeling in his skull, the fading high and the incoming rush of orgasm that lingers just in the edges of his senses like actors waiting in the wings for their cue. His fingers work harder, their tempo increasing to a desperate, merciless rush, and his toes curl inside his shoes while she tells him she's been waiting all day.
"You insatiable, vile little thing, oh, Salome" The pace of his hand grows rough, a shudder overcoming him while she spreads and drips and ruins the upholstery of his car but how could he possibly care? All he wants is to cum, and for her to do the same, and maybe it's the car that passes by them, or maybe it's the press of her teeth, or simply the foolish, ridiculous urgency of it all, but he curses, foot hitting the gas and hand slipping enough to hit the horn while he lets himself go, the pleasure filling his head so hard that his back arches and he struggles, struggles to keep his eyes open and on the road and his vision clear enough to keep from crashing.
The car weaves a little, but he rights it, fighting back the swimming of his skull. Richard moans, the noise lowering into a sigh as he manages to pull it together enough to focus properly on the road again, and with a half-grin, half-sneer, he glances down to Salome.
"Wicked girl. Don't get daddy so excited in the car. This is a ten-hour drive, young lady. You shouldn't put us in danger like that." His grin widens to a teasing breadth while his fingers still work within her. "If it wasn't your birthday you might be in trouble for that."
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Luckily for her lifespan, Salome may not be as desperate for stupid risk-taking as her father is--but fucking Richard is a dangerous enough activity all on its own. Catch him on the wrong day--or the right one--and that shit can get scary. Fast. Just ask Delilah. There's been more than one night where she's sincerely wondered whether or not she was going to be alive when he finished with her.
Silly girl. Some women just don't realize they're worth so much more alive.
Richard manages a grin, although it's hard with how much he has to focus on everything and fight back the delirious feeling in his skull, the fading high and the incoming rush of orgasm that lingers just in the edges of his senses like actors waiting in the wings for their cue. His fingers work harder, their tempo increasing to a desperate, merciless rush, and his toes curl inside his shoes while she tells him she's been waiting all day.
"You insatiable, vile little thing, oh, Salome" The pace of his hand grows rough, a shudder overcoming him while she spreads and drips and ruins the upholstery of his car but how could he possibly care? All he wants is to cum, and for her to do the same, and maybe it's the car that passes by them, or maybe it's the press of her teeth, or simply the foolish, ridiculous urgency of it all, but he curses, foot hitting the gas and hand slipping enough to hit the horn while he lets himself go, the pleasure filling his head so hard that his back arches and he struggles, struggles to keep his eyes open and on the road and his vision clear enough to keep from crashing.
The car weaves a little, but he rights it, fighting back the swimming of his skull. Richard moans, the noise lowering into a sigh as he manages to pull it together enough to focus properly on the road again, and with a half-grin, half-sneer, he glances down to Salome.
"Wicked girl. Don't get daddy so excited in the car. This is a ten-hour drive, young lady. You shouldn't put us in danger like that." His grin widens to a teasing breadth while his fingers still work within her. "If it wasn't your birthday you might be in trouble for that."