The thought caught her like a blow to the gut, paired with the most heady feeling she ever felt, and she grabbed the counter as her knees buckled, breaking her fall. She moaned, clinging to the cool counter, panting, leather, blood, sex, roses. She could's quite smell them, buts he could taste them, and she shuddered. What was he doing? Another wallop from him and she was on her hands and knees, panting, moaning, shaking. She needed him and he needed her. Her hand rose, shaking, and fell, inches before the other, and she began to crawl, panting, moaning as her clothing rubbed.<br/><br/>She made it to the bottom of the stairs before she had to stop, every fibre rubbing her in all of the right, and wrong ways. She dreaded pulling the clothes off, but knew she had no choice. She dragged the shirt over her head, crying out, and unclasped her bra,breasts singing free heavily. She shuddered, the smells closer, headier. one hand shoved clumsily at her jeans and underwear as she started back up the stairs, shimmying them off before she reached the door. She panted again, pausing, draw to him like a lodestone, and pushed the door, staring in that the scene, too swamped with desire to be frightened.<br/><br/>She moaned, unable to form words, whimpering, and dragged her knees across the carpet, toward him, panting, ashamed at how she felt, how humiliating it was to crawl, how she couldn't stand at all.