Paloma is lost to his ferocity and amazed at how much energy he still has, when she feels like the wind's been fucked clean out of her. She tries to kiss him with equal insistence even so.
He tastes like ass. It's fine.
"Mmm. Umm." His hands are warm and heavy where they pin her. A thick wetness (his load?) escapes her throbbing cunt. She blinks sluggishly. "Mm, I thought it went by fast...?"
"Not that fast." Still he's not in any hurry. They can make out a little first. "But if you think it was, I'd gladly go again!" He doesn't just kiss, this dog bites.
Can't be anything but Hyde's mess trickling onto the leather, defeating the purpose of warning the voyeur off. It's a deliciously perverse contrast to the softness of his lips, until his teeth make a sharp return to attention.
Paloma yelps quietly but submits, stretching the bitten, smarting expanse of her throat out for him to peruse. "But Henry, dinner? Later?" God she sounds intoxicated.
He mumbles against her throat, and a moment later is shoving his tongue down it. "Yeah, I guess so...." That doesn't mean he's going to stop his tirade of missing but he does fumble for the glove box to fish for his glasses.
Paloma had reapplied lipstick between leaving Hyde in the pub and waiting out in his car. It is not smudgeproof. His mouth comes away with a coat of deep red, vivid on his paleness.
He's concerningly ready for another round so soon after his first, and the kissing is liable to sweep her up in another go of it. She heaves herself to a sitting position against the door in disarray. "That's-- you wear glasses too!" Huh!
"Sometimes..." He fuckin guesses! When he's not being stubborn about it. When she sits up, so does he, putting those glasses on so he can slide into the driver's seat. "Identical, remember?" But that doesn't mean he wants to be identical.
Her tits might be spilling out and her panties twisted, but he is not taking the wheel.
"Ye-- Edward! You're not driving!!" Paloma crawls from the back halfway into the front, yanking said panties into order. More semen sticks there, which she can't afford to dwell on. "Scoot! Scoot!"
Until he's started the engine the wheel is fair game to anyone but him. She tuts, trying to get her breasts into the lace bra and pull his hands away simultaneously, but catches sight of his face in the glasses. The image squeezes her heart.
"Oh..." Her tugging lessens. "Those look, umm. You look good."
He presses his lips together with an angry blush. "Yeah, whatever... It looks fucking stupid." Maybe it's fine for Jekyll, but he's way too cool for nerdy glasses.
So far so good. Keep it up, girl, get him away from the wheel and gas pedal.
Situated here, she rearranges her scrunched-up dress to a semblance of modesty. Her stinging throat registers. "Crap, need another scarf." His fault. All of it! She frowns. "Edward? Could you grab the one I brought? I think I left it in there, and..."
Good thing he's such a nice guy! "In the greenroom? Sure." Good thing he's high on weed and sex. He gets out, taking the opportunity to light up a cigarette and realises what he's doing all too late--
BAM. The door closes in his face and locks immediately. Paloma releases the breath she was holding and relaxes into the seat, glad to sit normally and in comfort. Guy bruised her vag.
"Sorry!" she yells, unlocking the passengers side and gesturing to show him. "Forgot to bring one!"
"Fuck off," just for that she gets a smokey kiss once he's got back in and opened the window to let his arm dangle out with the cigarette. "I can drive you know, I'm fine!"
He can’t be mad if he kisses her for it. She takes the invite in stride but wrinkles her nose at the fresh flavor of cigarette smoke; without missing a beat she lowers the window on her side.
“Pass me for a sec?” Maintaining casual disaffection while plotting against him. Can he say no to sharing a cigarette?
Isn't she always complaining about him smelling or tasting like smoke? Oh well, if she wants a drag he's not going to tell her to go get her own, so of course he passes it. It's kinda hot to share it. "Yeah, go ahead. Don't tell Jekyll."
It would be kind of hot to share one if she planned on putting it between her lips. She accepts it.
“Promise I won’t tell,” Paloma swears solemnly, tickled that he’a asking her to hide a bad habit from his brother. A gentle smile for him, and then she flings the cig out onto the lot.
While he’s moving she finangles the keys into her palm and the ignition, exultant in her post-sex euphoric bravery. Paloma feels completely invulnerable which, hey, maybe not the best state to drive in...
“Not with company!” she admonishes as the engine purrs. “Think about cake! Focus?”
"You're the one who just started driving without giving me a chance to!" But now he's just not gonna. He'll sit there, no seatbelt, no shirt, cigarette in hand, feet on the cash, not giving a fuck.
Her head turns rapidly twice to be certain of his audacity. The law-abiding citizen in her panics.
“Edward! Please!” They haven’t left the lot and nobody’s trying to get out behind them, so the car stops— slowly, to keep him from pitching. She lays a soft hand over his bicep, rubbing small circles she hopes will coax him. Her doe eyes light on Hyde full blast. “I really couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”
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He tastes like ass. It's fine.
"Mmm. Umm." His hands are warm and heavy where they pin her. A thick wetness (his load?) escapes her throbbing cunt. She blinks sluggishly. "Mm, I thought it went by fast...?"
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Paloma yelps quietly but submits, stretching the bitten, smarting expanse of her throat out for him to peruse. "But Henry, dinner? Later?" God she sounds intoxicated.
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He mumbles against her throat, and a moment later is shoving his tongue down it. "Yeah, I guess so...." That doesn't mean he's going to stop his tirade of missing but he does fumble for the glove box to fish for his glasses.
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He's concerningly ready for another round so soon after his first, and the kissing is liable to sweep her up in another go of it. She heaves herself to a sitting position against the door in disarray. "That's-- you wear glasses too!" Huh!
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"Ye-- Edward! You're not driving!!" Paloma crawls from the back halfway into the front, yanking said panties into order. More semen sticks there, which she can't afford to dwell on. "Scoot! Scoot!"
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But, fuck, he wants a cigarette and he needs his hands for that too...
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"Oh..." Her tugging lessens. "Those look, umm. You look good."
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But it lowers his guard.
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"Punks look how they want to look, though." Don't they? In any event. Paloma is in his lap before he knows what's happening.
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Situated here, she rearranges her scrunched-up dress to a semblance of modesty. Her stinging throat registers. "Crap, need another scarf." His fault. All of it! She frowns. "Edward? Could you grab the one I brought? I think I left it in there, and..."
And it's a ruse.
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"Hang on a fucking minute!"
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"Sorry!" she yells, unlocking the passengers side and gesturing to show him. "Forgot to bring one!"
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“Pass me for a sec?” Maintaining casual disaffection while plotting against him. Can he say no to sharing a cigarette?
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“Promise I won’t tell,” Paloma swears solemnly, tickled that he’a asking her to hide a bad habit from his brother. A gentle smile for him, and then she flings the cig out onto the lot.
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“Not with company!” she admonishes as the engine purrs. “Think about cake! Focus?”
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"The cake's for you," he pouts. But there's nothing stopping him from lighting another, and that's exactly what he does.
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He just lit another. Dammit, it was worth the attempt. She only tries a half-hearted swipe without expecting results. Her eyes cast over him.
Paloma frowns and guiltily dabs the corners of her smudged mouth. “Well— hey, seatbelt!”
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“Edward! Please!” They haven’t left the lot and nobody’s trying to get out behind them, so the car stops— slowly, to keep him from pitching. She lays a soft hand over his bicep, rubbing small circles she hopes will coax him. Her doe eyes light on Hyde full blast. “I really couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”
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