[Shit, he read her like a book, didn't he? It's like some weird kind of role reversal, but then again Dave has always had pretty good instincts. Her nails dig a little harder into skin and scar tissue. Her breath comes out in a huff when he cups her breast, and she lets her eyes fall shut just for a moment, just to feel for a moment. Then she pulls back, looking him in the eyes—well, shades, but she's close enough that she can make out the ghosts of his eyes behind them—and raises her eyebrows. Her cheeks are pink, but her voice is controlled.]
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[Shit, he read her like a book, didn't he? It's like some weird kind of role reversal, but then again Dave has always had pretty good instincts. Her nails dig a little harder into skin and scar tissue. Her breath comes out in a huff when he cups her breast, and she lets her eyes fall shut just for a moment, just to feel for a moment. Then she pulls back, looking him in the eyes—well, shades, but she's close enough that she can make out the ghosts of his eyes behind them—and raises her eyebrows. Her cheeks are pink, but her voice is controlled.]
Are you going to fuck me on this table, or what?