Deepwood Weald Diddly dee

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Arturo let a low purr of a growl as he pressed his chest flush with her back side shortly after he released her ear. Her wiggle hadn't necessarily been the begging he had hoped for but it sufficed. He offered another nip against her hip. There was no intoxicating scent emitting from her, no sense of urgency in his movements. She was not in heat and he was not drunk on the basic of needs to fill her with his seed. Which in some logical part of Arturo's brain made him wonder why then he was filled with this hazy desire to take what she was offering him. There was no attachment between the two of them; but he brushed it away before it could encourage him to change his mind. This was harmless. This was just business.

He lifted a front leg and draped it across her hip, intending to draw her closer before he grasped her scruff betwixt his jaws and drew up upon her slowly, ignoring the ache in his loins, though the gangster rolled his hips against her's once to soothe the flare of impatience within him as he aligned his body with her's. A heavy, heady breath left the gangster as, with her securely in his embrace, he thrust against and into, his experience lending him the ease of finding his mark without struggle, his breath tapering off into a low rumbling growl of pleasure as his hips continued their rhythm with her's.

It was a shame that he had forgotten just how good it felt when business mixed with pleasure. Or in this case when business was pleasure.

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