The wet heat of her clung to him.
Each time she lifted, he felt the soft, swollen lips of her pussy drag along his length before she sank back down and took him deep again.
"Is this— is this okay?" she panted. "Right there. Oh— right there."
Lor swore under his breath. It was more than okay.
His hands left her thighs and planted on the table on either side of her head.
He leaned down over her, and the angle changed, and she gasped.
His chest pressed against hers, hot and damp.
Their breath mingled.
Her hands found his shoulders, then his neck, then his hair, and she held on to him as he thrust.
Every stroke brought his face a little closer to hers.
Her mouth was open, her lips wet and red where she had bitten them, and her eyes had gone soft and unfocused. She was looking at his mouth.
He was looking at hers.
They were a breath apart.
He slowed, just a little, and the room went quiet except for the wet sound of their bodies and her shuddering breath against his lips.
