The Filthy Kiss

 

Lexa whimpered as Clarke’s fiery gaze continued to bore into her. “Fingers,” Lexa finally choked out, the word barely audible. She inhaled and calmed her nerves quickly repeating with much more conviction. “I want your fingers.”

 

Clarke wrapped her right hand behind Lexa’s neck, pulling her into a filthy kiss. Lexa’s own hands dug into Clarke’s hips as their tongues slid and rolled against each other. Lexa was so caught up in the most primal and lust-filled kiss of her life that she didn’t even notice Clarke’s other hand until two fingers slid right into her without warning.

 

Lexa broke the kiss with a heavy groan, and Clarke started a steady pace, thrusting in and out, filling Lexa exquisitely. The heel of her hand pressed against her clit with every push, pulling pants and noises from Lexa’s chest she didn’t even know she was capable of.

 

The fire dancing along every inch of her skin all seemed to trail towards her core, tightening her muscles, coiling the tension, just waiting to be released. Lexa locked eyes with Clarke who was looking at her with wonder and pride, and at that moment, Lexa needed to feel more of her.

 

She quickly debated two options. She could slide her own hand down, thrust into Clarke and bring her up with her. Or Lexa could ask for more.