Only when the last shudder rippled through Bella and her grip on his hair finally loosened did Ross pull back.
He lifted his head slowly, face glistening with her release, lips swollen and shiny.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in one lazy motion, eyes burning with raw, possessive hunger as he looked down at the beautiful wreck he'd made of her.
Bella lay there utterly spent—limbs heavy, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp with sweat, her pussy still twitching with aftershocks.
Fresh arousal leaked steadily from her, pooling beneath her hips on the ruined sheets.
Ross's voice was rough, almost reverent, when he finally spoke.
"Perfect," he murmured, tracing a single finger through the slick mess between her thighs, making her flinch with oversensitivity.
"Absolutely fucking perfect." He hadn't even put his cock in her yet—and already, she was ruined for anyone else.
