He's not sure how he manages to struggle out of the trousers--every second they're not touching is a blur to him--and the shirt definitely ends up somewhere across the room with her camisole from last night. At least one of the cuff buttons might have popped and rolled under the bed. He has exactly zero fucks to give about how rumpled he's going to look when he eventually staggers back to John's place.
And as soon as all that heavy, unnecessary fabric is out of the way, he's shifting towards her on the bed, hand reaching between her thighs again. He needs to feel her clit pulse and slide under his fingertips like he needs to kiss her, like he needs her hand on him again.
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He's not sure how he manages to struggle out of the trousers--every second they're not touching is a blur to him--and the shirt definitely ends up somewhere across the room with her camisole from last night. At least one of the cuff buttons might have popped and rolled under the bed. He has exactly zero fucks to give about how rumpled he's going to look when he eventually staggers back to John's place.
And as soon as all that heavy, unnecessary fabric is out of the way, he's shifting towards her on the bed, hand reaching between her thighs again. He needs to feel her clit pulse and slide under his fingertips like he needs to kiss her, like he needs her hand on him again.