Fantasy Flirt - Episode 8

Her fingers trace the curve of his jaw as she straddles him. Slow, deliberate. The candlelight catches the sweat on her collarbone and pools between her breasts. He watches the way her mouth parts when she takes him in—inch by inch, inch by inch—until he’s buried to the hilt and her breath stutters against his neck. She rocks forward. He grips her waist, thumb pressing bruises into skin, and she answers by rolling her hips harder. The slap of skin fills the room. He leans up, catches a nipple between his teeth, sucks until she gasps his name like it hurts to say it. Her nails rake down his back. She clenches around him, wet and hot and tight, and he groans into her shoulder like he’s losing something. She pushes him back onto the sheets, pins his wrists above his head, and rides him like she owns the air between them. Every thrust sends her hair cascading over her face. He watches her come apart—jaw slack, eyes glassy, thighs shaking—and follows right after, spilling into her with a low, broken sound that vibrates through both their chests.