He's an author... most famous for "Count of Monte Cristo..."
[he needs to catch his breath for a moment. a hand moves from one of her breasts, and starts to undo the buttons for his pants. his other thumb presses against her nipples.]
A man's framed for a crime he didn't commit... By his best friend...
[back to kissing her desperately, actually, letting his words come between kisses, as his hands slid down her bare midrift, past the pants she's starting to unbutton]
[ free of the pants, she hooks one leg around the back of his knees, for a better angle, kissing him sloppily and returning to running her hands up and down his bare back. ]
F, fourteen years, so—ye gods, what did his terrible friend even, ah, do...
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He's an author... most famous for "Count of Monte Cristo..."
[he needs to catch his breath for a moment. a hand moves from one of her breasts, and starts to undo the buttons for his pants. his other thumb presses against her nipples.]
Probably not familiar...
no subject
[ she presses into his touch, back arching a little bit, and drops her hands to loosen her own pants. ]
What's it about.
no subject
[back to kissing her desperately, actually, letting his words come between kisses, as his hands slid down her bare midrift, past the pants she's starting to unbutton]
no subject
So, ah—to clear his name, or...?
no subject
[if she's shimmying out, he's definitely getting handsy, sliding a hand across her labia, thumb pressing along her clit]
He went to jail for... 14 years, actually.
no subject
[ free of the pants, she hooks one leg around the back of his knees, for a better angle, kissing him sloppily and returning to running her hands up and down his bare back. ]
F, fourteen years, so—ye gods, what did his terrible friend even, ah, do...