The Satyr was panting this time, when their kiss was again broken, his chest heaving with the effort to fill his lungs, even as his chosen for the night, all by tore at the buttons of his shirt. In fact, more than a few had popped off under her near frantic fingers. It took a moment, to convince his own hands to leave her body but he was able to. His hips still pressed against hers and grinding, he pulled off his open jacket. By the time that was done, she had gotten all of his shirt’s buttons either undone or ripped off and he quickly shed the garment before peeling off the undershirt, leaving his chest bare.<br/><br/>Smiling, that charming smile of his, Niklaus leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “I need you” he whispered in a husky, lusty voice, as his hands returned to her hips. He gathered handfuls of her black blouse, as his head lowered a little, to place hot, almost feverish kisses along her neck. As he teased her skin with phantom love bites, he pushed the blouse up, only pulling away at the last moment, so that he could slip the shirt over her head. Tossing it with his own shirt, his hands jumped back to her waist, this time pushing her undershirt up, his palms pressing against her skin.