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I pushed her away, and she pouted lightly, her lips wet, begging for a kiss.
I did. I kissed her deeply, with abandon that I rarely allowed myself to display.
But it was like that with her.
Amethyst gave so freely of herself that she made me want to do the same.
It left me off balance, a feeling that I usually hated, but one that I loved with her.
I pushed her down gently, then went down behind her, curling my body behind hers.
I moved my hand down her thighs, then centered at her wetness, feeding her first one, then a second finger.
Her little moans of encouragement drove me on, had my blood racing as I teased her clit, and then pulled away.
She pouted, but the frown on her face turned into an O when I lined up my cock and filled her in one stroke.
I loved her slowly, thoroughly, ignoring my own urgency, instead wanting to prolong this.
Even still, I was not immune to my own teasing. Soon, I found myself on the verge.
But I wouldn’t go alone. I thrust harder, faster, teased her clit as I did.
And only when she went over did I follow, feeling the same peace in connection that I always did when I was with her.
I held her tight, not wanting to let her go.
And she lay in my arms, something that both surprised me and made me happy.
She hadn’t done that for a long while, and I missed it.
But as I held her, I got the sense that something was on her mind.
Reluctant to allow anything to enter this world, I nevertheless pulled away, then turned her.
She had a look of peace on her face, but also one of determination.
“What is it, Amethyst?” I said.
Her expression was stern, but there was also was a softness to it.
I looked at her, silently urging her to go on.
“I need to talk to my father,” she finally whispered.
I stared at her a long moment, so long that she sat up, her expression worried.
“What?” she said.
“I’ll arrange it,” I finally answered.
“How?” she asked.
“It should be easy. He’s here in Zürich,” I said with a shrug.
