"Look at me," Lucian ordered, his voice reduced to embers.
She raised her face slowly, as if obeying him was a sacred act... and the moment their gazes intertwined, Lucian captured her mouth.
It wasn't a kiss that asked for permission.
It was an onslaught of need contained for too long, a collision of hunger and devotion that made them moan simultaneously.
She arched over him, over his enormous, erect, and veined member inside her, clinging to his shoulders, feeling how he guided her with firm, precise movements, setting a rhythm that left no room for doubt. Each thrust carried his name, each touch was a dangerous promise.
Her moans didn't take long to follow, she was dripping for him, sliding down Lucian's balls, which hung shamelessly.
The armchair creaked beneath them again, complaining and nearly giving way.
A nearby table trembled... and fell to the floor. The water spilled, the vase rolled down the garden steps and finally broke when it reached the bottom.
