he who hesitates is toast

"Yes," he murmurs. He's almost dizzy, intoxicated by her, wanting to hear more of her breathless cries, to feel her arching against him. Bucky kisses the side of her throat, feeling her heartbeat rapid against his lips, then finds the spot at the curve of neck and shoulder that she likes so well and draws on it, working her skin with his tongue.

As he does, he runs his hand over the curve of her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb, then back down along her side to the swell of her hip and lower. He cups the center of her and tweaks the sensitive bud between his fingers, circling and pressing.