Oh, [ she breathes, ] believe me, I'm not planning on this being the same day.
[ Shaw sending Bear away is invitation enough. It turns out that the gift Root has for the both of them is a traditional cupping set. She hadn't forgotten Shaw's comment months ago about that, had tracked one down and saved it for this moment. Modern versions use suction devices instead of fire using up the oxygen to create the vacuum, but Root knows Shaw and she hadn't settled for less.
She takes her apart as meticulously as she'd promised on top of the dining table, alternating wicked edging toward orgasm and red-hot capillary-breaking glass jars set on her skin. Mostly her back, but not entirely. Traditional cupping means Root lights an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on a stick on fire and holds it beneath the open jar before swiftly pulling it away and setting the hot rim of glass on her. It pulls red bruises to the surface immediately, and her inner thighs are especially tender, Root working her over with gradually increasing intensity and a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
She doesn't care about her own physical relief; it's a benefit sometimes, being a woman and a cerebral one, that she doesn't mind delaying or denying her physical release. The mental release is so much rarer and so much more precious to her. She can go as long as Shaw needs to fall apart and she won't be distracted.
Once she thinks Shaw has had enough she crawls up onto the table, which creaks beneath their combined weight, and starts licking luxuriously over the marks she's left behind. She feels like a cat who's been given cream and wants to rub herself all over her in territorial claim. ]
yes'm
[ Shaw sending Bear away is invitation enough. It turns out that the gift Root has for the both of them is a traditional cupping set. She hadn't forgotten Shaw's comment months ago about that, had tracked one down and saved it for this moment. Modern versions use suction devices instead of fire using up the oxygen to create the vacuum, but Root knows Shaw and she hadn't settled for less.
She takes her apart as meticulously as she'd promised on top of the dining table, alternating wicked edging toward orgasm and red-hot capillary-breaking glass jars set on her skin. Mostly her back, but not entirely. Traditional cupping means Root lights an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on a stick on fire and holds it beneath the open jar before swiftly pulling it away and setting the hot rim of glass on her. It pulls red bruises to the surface immediately, and her inner thighs are especially tender, Root working her over with gradually increasing intensity and a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
She doesn't care about her own physical relief; it's a benefit sometimes, being a woman and a cerebral one, that she doesn't mind delaying or denying her physical release. The mental release is so much rarer and so much more precious to her. She can go as long as Shaw needs to fall apart and she won't be distracted.
Once she thinks Shaw has had enough she crawls up onto the table, which creaks beneath their combined weight, and starts licking luxuriously over the marks she's left behind. She feels like a cat who's been given cream and wants to rub herself all over her in territorial claim. ]