<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d8/RowanPF.jpg)  </div><strong>Rowan Riks</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/wiki/File:Rowan.pdf)<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Will<br/><strong>Status</strong>: Hot and boithered<hr/><br/>Rowan's wanton abandon retreats a bit when they begin to undress-- her attention is focused entirely on Will as he begins to undress her and himself, alternating between them rapidly and furiously with a desperate insistence.  When his waistcoat and shirt come open, her compact body immediately contracts so that she can insert her face between them, her lips pert and hungry as she covers his abdominal muscles and chest, forming open-mouthed kisses and hot breaths.  When her shirt comes free of her body, she folds her arms instinctively over herself, covering her pert, youthful breasts, but not in time to hide the source of her shame-- crisscrossing scars, fading but still pink, across her taut belly and breasts.  They are too superficial, too long to be anything but intentionally placed.<br/><br/>With a shudder, she eases her hands away, panting lightly, and looks up at his face with her soft, mossy eyes.  Her breasts are ample and upturned, crested with pink domes and pert, reddened nipples hungry for attention, but the act itself is a sheer exertion of willpower for her.  Her shoulders rise and fall as she braces for judgement, then rises to her knees on the bed, drawing away just a bit as she slips off her boots with opened laces.  The sag of her breeches becomes more pronounced as she opens the side laces with simple tugs at the laces, then she shucks them low to her knees and off with a wriggle, baring herself with a blush that spreads from high on her cheekbones down her long, thin neck to the tops of her breasts.  Below the slope of her taut middle, there are more scars, and below the short, fine ferny blonde hairs between her legs, another like a stripe of angry white below her inward sloping navel  down to the soft shadows that hide her sex.<br/><br/>"Not perfect, I know..." she mutters, looking aside in shame, then reaffixes her gaze to his for his reaction.  "... damaged goods, I suppose," she tries to joke, flashing one of her impish smiles, the gesture hollow and meager.  "Alright.  Your turn.  I've not... enjoyed this.  Circumstance," she says with a little clearing of her throat, flicking her gaze over him expectantly, hopefully, from his dashing jaw to the bulge in his pants to his strong, supple thighs.  "Let's have a look, eh?"