Aiden eased out of Xylendra with deliberate care, watching the thick white flood of his release leak slowly from her swollen, fluttering pussy. Her body finally relaxed completely—limbs going slack, lashes fluttering once before closing in exhausted surrender. A soft, dreamy sigh escaped her lips as sleep claimed her at last.
He kissed the corner of her mouth—gentle, almost reverent—then lifted his gaze.
Lysandra had been watching the entire time.
Her red eyes—deep crimson, almost glowing—locked on him the moment he turned.
No words.
Just a slow, knowing smile.
She shifted—rolling onto her back—spreading her thighs in silent invitation. The movement made her breasts sway heavily; one strap of her nightgown slipped down her shoulder, baring the upper swell of one perfect mound.
Aiden crawled over her without hesitation.
He settled between her legs—knees spreading her wider—hands immediately finding the soft, generous weight of her breasts through the lace.
