Playboy Centerfolds - Episode 17

She steps out of her jeans like she's unwrapping something expensive. Black thong. Nothing else. The air shifts when she climbs onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress, ass high, spine dipped low. He moves behind her, palms sliding over the curve of her hips, thumbs parting her. His tongue finds her first—slow, deliberate—pressing flat against her before he licks deeper, wet and hungry. She makes a sound that lands somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He keeps going. Two fingers slide inside her while his mouth works her clit, steady rhythm, no rush. She pushes back against him, greedy. When he stands and unzips, she looks over her shoulder and smiles. The kind of smile that says she knows exactly what she's doing. He grips her waist, lines up, and pushes in. One long, smooth thrust. She gasps, then laughs again, the sound breaking into something rawer as he starts to move. Skin against skin. The wet sound of it. Her hands fist the sheets. He fucks her harder now, pace building, sweat at the small of her back catching the light. She reaches down between her legs, fingers circling her clit while he drives into her, meeting every thrust. The bed creaks. Her breath hitches. She comes first, sudden and sharp, thighs shaking, voice catching in her throat. He follows right after, buried deep, hips stuttering, a low groan pressed into her shoulder. They stay like that for a moment. Breathing. Then she turns her head, still smiling, and says, "Round two?"