Secret Sessions - Episode 9

He gripped her waist with both hands, pressing her back against the velvet headboard until the carved wood dug into her shoulder blades. Her legs locked around his hips as he drove into her, deep, steady strokes that made the bedsprings answer every thrust. She was dripping. He could feel it sliding down his cock, coating his balls, marking the sheets beneath them. She moaned low, the sound dragged from her throat as her nails dug into the muscle of his back, pulling him closer, harder, as if she could take more than he was already giving. The air in the bedroom hung thick with heat and the sharp scent of sex—sweat, arousal, the faint trace of her perfume now crushed into his skin. He watched her mouth fall open, watched her lashes flutter as he angled his hips and hit that spot that made her pulse around him. She clenched. He swore. She came with a cry that broke halfway into a whimper, and still he kept moving, fucking her through it until her thighs shook and her hands slid down to grip his ass, urging him deeper. He finished with a grunt that tore from his chest, hips stuttering, cock pulsing as he emptied into her. For a moment, the only sound was their breathing—rough, uneven, spent. She laughed, soft and hoarse, forehead pressed to his. He kissed the damp skin at her temple, then lower, at the corner of her mouth, tasting salt. Outside, the city moved on, indifferent. Inside, the sheets were ruined and neither of them cared.