At first her glance up showed the bottom of Quentin's angular jaw; his head was thrown back and he was groaning into the air with a curious mixture of satisfaction and the breaking of a tension that had gripped him since he'd left. When he looked back down he had perhaps softened a little; he looked less angry, and perhaps a little warmer to her... but that didn't limit the dangerous glint in his eye. It was almost imperceptible, but Zoey had seen it enough times during her short stay here. It meant that he wasn't going to be satisfied by anything... easy.<br/><br/>For now, though, he was plenty content with her mouth and throat. His hands reached down past her head to her shoulders, pulling them back and forth a little as though it made any real difference to her mouths effort. Between her lips (and indeed throat) his prick was enraged. It pulsed with hot throbs of blood running through it, aching and straining to grow greater still. He was excited, and as a result he was rock solid; there was no give at all from his prick, and so Zoey's flesh had to yield a little more to make up for it. And, despite her difficulties, he threw not unregular demands of 'deeper' or 'faster' at her, seemingly until she was somehow guzzling back the entirety of his sex, and even then he wouldn't be completely satisfied.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>