Valka
My hand unfurls from the desk's edge and drive into his hair. It's still short. He's been keeping it short. It's set a trend amongst the people and everyone's cutting their hair in tapers that fade on the sides.
My nails scrape against the curls on the back of his scalp and he groans, pressing his lips to my folds and at the flattening of his tongue against the head of my clitoris, my lips part around a wretched sigh.
His nails dig into my hipbone and he crushes me closer into his face, kissing me fold to fold, licking slit to entrance and my inner walls clench around nothing, my legs trembling where they dangle off his broad shoulders.
