Jade Fern Grove chafa

Warmth radiated from her—cool, spring air from the storm contrasted such as it billowed from the entrance. He remained enthralled with her for the moment—reverent. Another gentle kiss, encouraged by the graze of her delicate paw, lingering upon the back of his neck.

He tilted his gaze upward—frosted champagne meeting cerulean blue, and boldly, he moved his lips upward—another kiss planted—the suggestion in this one shifting in dynamic as his eyes never left her—unspoken and awaiting her words. He could not continue uninvited—but in that moment, he would graze his chin  more roughly along the delicate swell of her stomach, the stubble of rough whiskers painting the same pink tinge upon her skin as a man with stubble might—thoughts slipping to the wicked ways in which he could leave such a mark along more intimate areas of her body. It was hard not to envision what it would be to wake in a morning and have her, like this.


An eternity.