Punk laughed softly, his tongue sliding along her skin smoothly and slickly as he enjoyed the taste of her intermingling with ice cream.
"Hmm...cold," her voice was a murmur as she dragged her fingers through his hair and arched just the slightest bit into his touch, her back and then her hips leaving the bed.
"I like it," Punk muttered into her skin, his tongue darting into her belly button as she laughed and moved beneath him.
Amy squirmed, skin feeling hot and cold al at once, the ice cream decorating her abdomen melting easily due to the heat she was emitting.
"Punk," his name was a gasp as his mouth slid lower.
Sliding back up Punk smiled briefly before he continued lapping at the ice cream until it was gone and every breath she drew in ended on a gasp.
Kissing her was like the cherry on top of the sundae Punk decided moments later, the taste of her and ice cream still on his tongue.
And making love to her? It was even better.
It was fucking poetry.
She was so alive, her skin was so warm and as her nails sank into the flesh of his back he smothered a groan and a smile as he sank deeper into her.
Amy's moans were soft, a contrast to the loud nature of both her wardrobe and her tattoos, but he knew she was enjoying herself.
Faster and all thoughts of ice cream, of anything but her fled from his mind.
When her lips met his Punk pushed a little harder, muffled noises transferring from mouth to mouth as her legs wound around him and her arms pulled him closer.
He needed to bring ice cream home more often.
It was always so fucking fun.