She was killing me.
Aria straddled me in one of my t-shirts, the hem riding up to show the thin line of my briefs on her hips, the ones she'd clearly stolen because they hung beautifully loose on her, clinging to her in all the wrong places. My clothes. On her. Mine.
Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen from my mouth, her breath broken between soft curses and moans that only made me grind harder into her. I could feel the heat of her pussy soaking through the thin barrier of fabric, damp against my cock that was straining so hard I thought I'd tear through my underwear.
And the sounds. God, every time she moved, there was that wet squelch, obscene and desperate, filling the room and gutting me from the inside out. It tugged at the self controlled I had.
I kissed her like I was drowning, because I was, taking her mouth with mine, biting her lips, licking her lips when she whimpered.
