Chapter 369: The Weight of Warmth
The afternoon sun hung low over the island, casting long, golden shadows across the resort's winding paths. Malik had agreed to Risa's terms—one-on-one, no distractions, just the two of them. She had chosen the garden, a secluded corner of the resort where the air smelled of wood, wet hot sand and salt, where the sound of the ocean was a distant hum rather than a roar. The space was lush, vibrant with blooming flowers and carefully pruned trees, the kind of place that felt like a secret, but one that almost everyone knew about.
Risa had dressed for the occasion—not in her usual practical attire, but in something softer, something that clung to her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. A cream-colored wrap dress, the fabric light and flowing, tied at her waist in a way that accentuated the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the fullness of her breasts. The neckline dipped just low enough to tease, the fabric clinging to the soft, heavy weight of them, the way they moved with every breath she took. Her hair was loose, the dark strands catching the sunlight, the faint auburn undertones gleaming like polished mahogany. She wore no shoes, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft grass as she walked beside him, her steps unhurried, her presence warm and inviting.
Malik watched her, his golden-pink eyes tracing the lines of her body, the way the dress hugged her curves, the way her hips swayed with every step. He could see the outline of her nipples beneath the fabric, the way they tightened as the breeze brushed against her skin. His fingers twitched at his sides, his body responding to the sight of her, to the way she moved, to the way she existed beside him.
"You're quiet," Risa remarked, her voice soft, amused. She glanced at him, her amber-brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Usually, you're the one talking enough for both of us."
Malik chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe . . . But, I'm too busy enjoying the view," he admitted, his voice rough with admiration. "You look incredible."
Risa's smirk deepened, her fingers idly tracing the fabric at her waist. "You like it?" she asked, her voice a purr.
Malik's breath caught on her question. "I love it," he said, his voice thick with desire. "But I think I'd love it even more if it was on the floor."
Risa laughed, the sound rich and warm, her body leaning into his as they walked. "Patience, Malik," she teased, her fingers brushing against his arm. "We have all afternoon."
They reached a small, secluded pavilion tucked beneath the shade of a flowering tree, the petals drifting lazily to the ground around them. The space was intimate, the kind of place designed for quiet conversations and stolen moments. Risa turned to face him, her back pressing against one of the wooden pillars, her body angled toward him in a way that was both an invitation and a challenge.
"So," she said, her voice soft but deliberate. "What do you want to do with me, Malik?"
Malik's grin was slow, wicked. "Everything," he murmured, his hands finding her waist, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips. "But first, I want to kiss you."
Risa's breath stuttered as he moved in, her body responding to his touch, to the way his hands slid up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Then kiss me," she whispered, her voice a breathless command.
Malik didn't hesitate. His lips found hers, his kiss slow and deep, his hands sliding into her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands. Risa melted into him, her body pressing against his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she kissed him back. Her lips were soft, warm, the kind of kiss that tasted like sunshine and salt, like the kind of pleasure that lingered long after it was over.
Malik's hands slid lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the way her body responded to his touch. He could feel the heat of her, the way her breath snagged as his hands found the tie at her waist, his fingers undoing the knot with a single, smooth tug. The fabric of her dress fell open, revealing the soft, warm skin beneath, the way her breasts pressed against the thin material, the way her nipples tightened even further beneath his touch.
Risa's breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the effort of holding still, of letting him take what he wanted, what she wanted. Malik's lips trailed lower, his tongue dragging along the sensitive skin of her collarbone, the way her breath went up as he tasted her, the way her body responded to his touch.
"You're perfect," Malik murmured, his voice rough with admiration, with restraint. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, the way her breath faltered as he teased her, the way her body arched into his touch.
Risa's hands found his, guiding them lower, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her dress, dragging it down her hips in one smooth motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lace panties, the cream-colored material clinging to the curve of her hips, the way her body moved beneath his touch.
Malik's breath caught as he took in the sight of her—his eyes driffing from her legs up to her breasts, over and over again, the way her panties hugged her, the way the lace framed the full hipps, then back to the heavy weight of her breasts, the way her nipples pressed against the fabric, the way her body trembled with need.
"You're stunning," Malik murmured, his voice rough with desire. His fingers traced the lace at her hips, his touch light but knowing, his eyes never leaving hers as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, dragging the panties down her thighs in one slow, deliberate motion.
Risa stepped out of them, her body bare before him, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above them, casting patterns of light and shadow across her skin. Malik's hands found her waist, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips, the way her body responded to his touch, the way her breath shuddered as he pulled her close, his lips finding hers again, his kiss hungry, desperate, his hands exploring every inch of her.
Risa's room was a sanctuary of warmth and softness, the kind of space that felt like a hug the moment you stepped inside. The walls were a pale, sun-bleached wood, the kind that made the room feel open and airy, the kind that caught the sunlight and turned it into gold. The bed was low to the ground, piled with cushions and blankets in soft, earthy tones—creams and muted roses, the kind of colors that made you want to sink into them and never leave. The windows were open, the sheer curtains billowing gently in the breeze, the sound of the ocean a distant, soothing hum.
Malik followed Risa inside, his gaze lingering on the way her body moved, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the way her ass—full and round—swayed with every step. She turned to face him, her amber-brown eyes gleaming with mischief, her lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts of the challenge and invitation that he saw in them before.
"Welcome to my room," she said, her voice soft but deliberate. "Make yourself comfortable."
Malik's grin was slow, wicked. "I intend to," he murmured, his hands finding her waist, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips.
Risa's breath hitched, her body responding to his touch. Malik made the same moves, his hand knowing her rhythm, and once again he started, his hands sliding up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Then show me," she whispered, her voice yet another breathless command.
Malik didn't hesitate and he followed the same steps as before, wanting them to repeat. His lips found hers, his kiss slow and deep, his hands sliding into her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands. Risa melted into him, her body pressing against his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she kissed him back. Her lips were soft, warm, the kind of kiss that tasted like sunshine and salt, like the kind of pleasure that lingered long after it was over.
Malik's hands trail down Risa's sides, his fingers exploring the curves of her waist and hips as his mouth devours hers. She arches into him, her bare breasts pressing against his chest, the soft mounds yielding to his touch. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her with a primal hunger that makes his cock strain against his pants.
He walks her backward toward the bed, his lips never leaving hers. When the back of her knees hit the soft edge of the mattress, he gently guides her down, following her onto the pillowy surface. The cushions envelop them both, cradling their bodies as Malik hovers above her, his weight supported on his elbows.
His mouth trails down her neck, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin. Risa's fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as she tilts her head back, exposing more of her throat to his hungry lips. Malik's lips never left Risa's as he slowly, deliberately began to explore her body with his mouth. His kisses were warm and lingering, each one a promise of what was to come. He traced a path down the graceful curve of her neck, feeling the way her pulse fluttered beneath his lips, the faintest shiver running through her as his breath ghosted over her skin.
His hands slid down her arms, his fingers intertwining with hers for just a moment before he continued his descent. He kissed the hollow of her throat, the delicate dip of her collarbone, the soft swell of her chest where her heartbeat thrummed beneath his lips. he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt and warmth of her skin,
Lower still, his lips trailed over the gentle slope of her stomach, the way her muscles tensed ever so slightly beneath his touch. He could feel the heat of her, the way her body responded to him, the way her breath came faster as he kissed the soft dip of her belly, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him without words.
His hands slid to her hips, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as his mouth found the delicate curve of her pelvis. Risa's breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching into his touch, her legs parting just slightly as he kissed the soft, warm skin of her thighs. He took his time, his lips dragging along the smooth, toned muscles,
Finally, he reached her feet, his hands cradling her ankles as he pressed a kiss to the arch of each one, his tongue dragging along the sensitive skin, the way her toes curled in response. He could feel the way her body responded to him, "How good are you with your feet," He asked her between his kiss to her legs and feet. He had kissed her everywhere but where she truly wanted him, and the slow, deliberate journey was making her ache with need.
"Very," she managed, her voice husky. "And you?"
Malik didn't answer with words. His hands slid up from her ankles, along the long lines of her calves, over the taut muscles of her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the tender flesh of her inner legs, spreading her wider. He settled between her knees, his gaze lifting to meet hers. Her amber-brown eyes were wide, pupils dilated, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against her. Her hips lifted off the mattress in a silent, desperate plea.
His tongue, finally, found her.
Risa gasped, her back arching sharply off the bed. The sound was raw, unfiltered, and it sent a jolt of pure heat straight through Malik. He removed his mouth from her only long enough to hook his thumbs into the delicate lace of her panties. He slid them down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers, watching the flush deepen across her chest and cheeks as he exposed her completely. He tossed the fabric aside and returned to his task without a word.
This time, there was no barrier. His tongue traced the full, swollen length of her, from the sensitive bud at her apex to the very entrance of her, tasting her directly. She was slick, warm, and the sound she made—a choked, keening cry—was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.
He learned her rhythm quickly. His mouth settled over her, his tongue flat and firm as he licked a long, slow stripe. Then he focused, his lips closing around the hard, aching peak of her clit, sucking gently as the tip of his tongue flicked against it in rapid, precise circles. his face nuzzling the hair on her sex, breathing in her scent, a mix of salt air and her own sweet musk. His hands slide under her, gripping the firm curves of her ass, holding her steady as he feasts on her. He can feel the muscles in her thighs trembling, the way her hips buck against his mouth, seeking more pressure, a different angle.
He gives it to her. His tongue plunges inside her, fucking her with it, and Risa's cry is a shattered thing. Her fingers claw at the blankets, her head thrashing from side to side. "Malik… please…"
He pulls back, his lips and chin glistening. "Please what?" he rasps, his voice thick with her taste.
"Don't stop," she begs, her eyes wild, her chest heaving. "please, don't you dare stop."
A dark, satisfied smile touches his lips. "Fine, I'll be nice," he said getting back to work, knowing she was close, very close. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue working in rapid, insistent circles around her clit. His lips seal around it, sucking gently as his mouth moves, his free hand sliding up to her breast, thumb flicking over her hardened nipple. Risa's body tenses, her hips lifting off the bed as she grinds against his face, chasing her release.
Her breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps, her fingers twisting in the sheets as pleasure builds to a fever pitch. "Malik," she moans, her voice breaking as her body quivers on the edge. "I'm so close, please don't stop, please don't stop, please don't stop."
He doesn't. His tongue flicks faster, his mouth sucking harder, his free hand sliding down to part her folds, his fingers plunging inside her. Her walls clench around them, her body shaking with the force of her approaching orgasm. "That's it, baby." His fingers curl, pressing against the sensitive spot inside her as his mouth continues its relentless assault on her clit. Risa's back arches off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crashes over her. Her thighs clamp around Malik's head, her body shuddering violently as waves of intense pleasure pulse through her. A strangled cry escapes her throat, her fingers tightening in the sheets as she rides out the intense, overwhelming sensation.
Malik doesn't let up, his tongue lapping at her through the pulses of her climax, drawing out every last shudder and whimper. Only when she finally collapses back onto the bed, her body spent and quivering, does he slowly ease back, licking his lips as he gazes up at her.
Risa's chest heaves, her skin flushed pink, her amber-brown eyes half-lidded and heavy-lidded with satisfaction. "I'm glad you liked that but . . .," He told her pulling down his pants and pressing both her feet to his thick black cock, "Now, you said you were good with your feet, please, prove it to me." He holds her gaze, a challenge glinting in his own golden-pink eyes. Risa's breath is still uneven, her body humming from the aftershocks, but a slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips. She understands the game.
Her feet, still pressed against him, are warm and soft. She flexes them slightly, the arches curving to cup the hard length of him. Her toes, painted a deep burgundy, trail up the thick vein along the underside, then press firmly into the base. She watches his face as she does it, her expression one of focused concentration mingled with dark amusement.
"Like this?" she murmurs, her voice husky.
Her right foot slides upward, the sole rubbing along his shaft with a slow, deliberate friction. Malik closes his eyes and folds his arms and hands behind his back, "Thats a good start, do whatever feels natural." Malik leans back, surrendering to the sensation. Risa's left foot joins in, the two working in tandem—one stroking the length of him while the other presses and circles the head, her toes teasing the sensitive slit. She uses the natural dexterity of her feet, the softness of her soles contrasting with the firmness of her arches. The pressure is perfect, alternating between gentle and insistent, her movements fluid and practiced.
Her eyes never leave his face, studying every twitch of his jaw, every subtle change in his breathing. She sees the way his hands clench behind his back, the tendons standing out in his forearms. She feels him thicken further under her touch, hears the low groan that rumbles in his chest.
"You're very good at this," he manages, his voice strained.
Risa's smile deepens before she slides one foot to his balls. Risa's smile deepens. Her right foot continues its slow, steady stroke along his shaft while her left foot cups him below, the arch of her sole applying a firm, rolling pressure to his balls. Her toes are nimble, tracing the sensitive skin there, squeezing gently before releasing. Malik's breath hisses between his teeth, his hips shifting forward into the dual sensation—the slick friction above, the deep, aching pressure below.
"Natural, you said," she whispers, her voice a low, confident purr. "This feels natural to me."
She increases the pace of her right foot, the motion becoming smoother, faster, her sole gliding over him with a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. Her left foot maintains its possessive hold, a grounding counterpoint to the building urgency. Malik's restraint is visible—the corded muscles of his neck, the way his shoulders are rigid, his hands still locked behind his back. "No need to be gentle with me, I won't break easy, I promise," Malik almost whispered to her, his eyes still closed in focus. Risa's eyes narrow, a flash of something fierce and untamed sparking in their amber depths. His permission is all she needs. The pressure of her feet changes instantly—the strokes become harder, more deliberate, the soft arches of her soles digging into his flesh with a strength that surprises him. Her right foot pistons along his length, the friction intense and demanding, while her left foot cups and squeezes his balls with a firm, almost punishing grip.
Malik's breath catches, then releases in a ragged groan. His hips buck forward, driving himself deeper into the cradle of her feet. He can feel the calluses on her soles, the subtle ridges from years of barefoot training, and they scrape against his sensitive skin in the most exquisite way. She is not just good with her feet—she is an artist. She varies the rhythm, speeding up until his muscles coil tight, then slowing to a torturous, dragging tease that makes his whole body ache. "Thats . . . very good, not going to last long with this kind of talent," he partially groaned out. His words are a strained admission, a crack in his controlled facade. Risa's focus sharpens, her expression one of pure, predatory satisfaction. She sees the tension coiling in his abdomen, the way his thighs tremble. She knows he's close.
Her right foot slides up to the head of his cock, her toes forming a tight ring just beneath the crown, applying a firm, twisting pressure as she strokes downward. Her left foot continues its work below, the arch now rubbing in insistent circles against his perineum. The dual assault is overwhelming, calculated to push him over the edge.
Malik's head falls back, a guttural sound tearing from his throat. His hands, still locked behind his back, clench into white-knuckled fists. His hips jerk forward once, twice, a helpless, stuttering rhythm against her feet. "Risa—" Her name is a broken plea.
She doesn't relent. The pressure of her feet intensifies, her right foot stroking him with ruthless intent while her left foot presses against that secret place behind his balls, her toes curling to add pressure in a steady, relentless rhythm. Malik's breath comes in ragged gasps, his body taut as a bowstring. She watches him, her amber-brown eyes bright with triumph and dark desire, studying every twitch of his muscles, every shift in his breathing.
"Come for me," she commands, her voice husky with satisfaction. "Show me what you have."
Her words are the final push. Malik's body convulses, his hips jerking violently against her feet as release crashes through him. Risa holds him steady, her feet never faltering, her gaze locked on his face as she wrings every last spasm from his body. His groan is raw, unfiltered, his chest heaving as he covers both her feet entrily with his thick, hot jizz! Risa's feet are warm and slick, painted a glistening, pearlescent white from tip to heel. Malik's release coats her arches, her toes, the delicate bones of her instep. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she flexes her feet, working the warmth into her skin, her eyes fixed on his face as he comes down from the peak, his chest rising and falling with heavy, sated breaths.
A slow, lazy smile spreads across her lips. "Messy," she observes, her voice a low murmur. "I like it."
Malik opens his eyes, his golden-pink gaze hazy but focused on her. He watches as she slowly draws her feet back, bending her knees to bring them closer. Without breaking eye contact, she lifts her right foot, her toes glistening, and brings them to her mouth. Her tongue darts out, a quick, deliberate flick, tasting him. His cock twitches as he watches her eat his cum off both her feet. The sharp, salty taste of him floods her mouth, a familiar, intimate flavor mixed with the faint salt of her own skin. She licks her lips clean, her eyes holding his the entire time, a silent, possessive claim in the gesture. Malik watches, mesmerized, a fresh coil of heat tightening low in his belly despite his recent release.
He doesn't move to clean himself. Instead, he reaches for her, his hands closing around her ankles. He pulls her toward him, her body sliding easily across the rumpled sheets until she is beneath him. Her skin is flushed, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath, her thighs falling open in welcome.
"You," he says, his voice rough, "are incredible."
He lowers himself over her, his weight settling between her legs. He is still slick from her earlier attention, and now from his own release, and he guides himself to her entrance with a single, deliberate thrust. Risa's breath catches, then releases in a sharp, shuddering gasp as he fills her. There's no hesitation, no gentle easing—only the deep, complete joining of their bodies. She arches beneath him, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, her head tilting back into the cushions. Malik stills for a moment, buried to the hilt inside her, letting them both feel the fullness, the heat, the perfect, aching fit.
Then he begins to move.
His rhythm is slow at first, a deep, rolling thrust that draws a moan from her lips. He watches her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted on ragged breaths. He sets a deliberate, grinding pace, each withdrawal almost complete before he drives back into her, hitting a spot deep inside that makes her hips jerk off the bed.
"Look at me," he rasps.
Her amber-brown eyes fly open, hazy with pleasure but fixed on his as he grabs his head to kiss him, her hot tounge forcing its way into his mouth. Risa's breath comes in sharp, broken gasps against his lips. The ocean outside is a distant hum, but inside the room, the only sounds are their ragged breathing, the wet slide of bodies, and the occasional soft thud of the headboard against the wall. Malik's hands slide under her, gripping her hips as he drives into her with increasing intensity. His rhythm isn't careful anymore—it's demanding, insistent, his body seeking completion.
"You feel so good," he murmurs against her mouth, his words rough with need. "So tight. So perfect."
Risa's fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as her legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back. "Faster," she gasps, her voice thick with want. "I need you deeper."
Malik doesn't hesitate. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder, more deliberate. His hips snap forward, driving himself into her with a rhythm that borders on punishing. Risa's body arches beneath him, her head falling back against the pillows as her breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps. She can feel him everywhere inside her, the thick length of him filling her completely, the heat of his body surrounding her.
"Malik," she whispers, her voice breaking on his name. "I'm going to—"
Her words cut off as her body tenses, her muscles locking up tight. Malik feels the change in her instantly—the sudden clench of her walls around him, the way her legs tighten around his waist. He watches her face as pleasure overtakes her, her amber-brown eyes going wide, her mouth falling open in a silent cry.
"Yes," he encourages, his voice rough with need. "Come for me again. Let me feel you." Risa's body obeys, her orgasm crashing over her in violent waves. Her back arches off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders as her walls convulse around him, milking him with rhythmic pulses that send pleasure shooting straight down his spine.
Her mouth forms a perfect 'O' as she cries out, the sound raw and unfiltered, her body shuddering beneath him. Malik doesn't stop—he can't. He thrusts through it, drawing out every last twitch and tremble from her body, his own need building to an unbearable peak. Her tightness around him, the way her body accepts him so perfectly, the sounds she makes—it all pushes him toward the edge. His rhythm becomes erratic, his thrusts losing their measured control as he chases his own release. Risa can feel it—the moment his body tenses, the way his thrusts become shorter, more frantic.
His breathing is ragged, his muscles coiled tight with the effort of holding back. She tightens her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her walls still fluttering around him. "Let go," she breathes against his ear, her voice thick with satisfaction. "I want to feel you." Her words push him over the edge. With a groan that's almost a growl, Malik buries himself deep inside her and stills.
His release comes in hot, pulsing waves, filling her completely as his body shudders against hers.
He clings to her, his arms locking around her waist as he rides out the intense pleasure, his hips giving small, involuntary thrusts as he spills inside her. Risa holds him close, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along his back as he shudders through the aftershocks.
He collapses onto her, his weight heavy and warm and utterly spent. For a long moment, the only sound is their shared, ragged breathing, mingling in the space between their lips. The scent of sex and salt air hangs thick in the room. Slowly, Malik rolls to the side, pulling her with him so they lie tangled together on the sweat-damp sheets, her back against his chest.
His arm drapes over her waist, his hand splaying possessively across her stomach. He nuzzles the damp hair at her temple, pressing a soft kiss there. Risa lets out a slow, contented sigh, her body limp against his.
"Told you I wouldn't break easy," he murmurs, his voice a sleepy rumble against her skin.
Risa huffs a soft laugh, the sound vibrating through her ribs and into his. "You did. And you didn't." Malik slides his still hard cock out of her hot entrance, "True, but in the end, we both won the game." Risa stretches languidly, rolling onto her back to face him. Her amber-brown eyes are heavy-lidded, her skin flushed a deep rose, her lips still swollen from his kisses. She smiles, slow and satisfied.
"Yes," she agrees softly. "We did."
She reaches up, tracing the curve of his face with her fingertips. The movement is tender, almost possessive, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone before tracing the line of his lower lip. Malik catches her wrist gently, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there before lowering their joined hands to rest against his chest.
The afternoon light filters through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the sheets, across their entangled bodies. The ocean outside sends its distant rhythm through the open window, a steady pulse against the silence inside. Risa's fingers flex against his chest, her nails lightly scraping the light dusting of hair there.
"You'll stay?" she asks, though it's not really a question. Malik seeing no need to answer the question in the current moment, move her on top of him, his hard dick between her thighs, his hands sliding up to grip her hips. Risa's breath catches as she feels him, still hard and thick beneath her, and the answering heat that blooms between her legs.
She doesn't hesitate. She shifts her weight, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him as she positions herself. Her hand wraps around his length, guiding him to her entrance. The tip of him presses against her, slick and swollen, and she lowers herself slowly, inch by torturous inch, until he's fully seated inside her. They both groan at the feeling—the stretch, the fullness, the perfect friction.
Risa begins to move, her hands bracing on his chest as she rides him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her hips roll in a way that makes him curse under his breath, the angle hitting something deep inside her that makes her eyes flutter closed. Malik's hands grip her hips, guiding her movements, urging her to go faster, deeper. Risa's large breasts bouncing and making a slapping sound as she rides him harder and faster. His gaze is fixed on them, mesmerized by the heavy sway and jounce of her flesh with every downward thrust.
The sound is a wet, rhythmic slap against her chest, a counterpoint to the slick, driving noise of their joining. His thumbs dig into the soft skin of her hips, his fingers splayed across the firm curve of her ass, urging her on. Her rhythm becomes frantic, her body slamming down onto his with a raw, desperate need. Her head falls back, a string of incoherent pleas and curses falling from her lips as she chases her climax, her inner walls fluttering and clenching around him. He can feel his own release building, a tight coil of heat in his gut, spurred on by the sight of her, the sound of her, the feel of her taking everything he has to give.