Twisted Passions #24

She pinned him to the mattress on March 2nd 2018, thighs locked around his ribs. The room smelled like sweat and cigarettes and that cheap incense she loved. He tried to breathe, but she grabbed his wrists and dragged them above his head, nails cutting crescents into his skin. Her hips rolled slow and deliberate while she whispered how long she'd watched him. He felt every inch of her slide against him, wet heat grinding until the friction turned brutal. When she finally sank down, the gasp tore out of him like it hurt. She didn't give him time to adjust—she just took, riding hard enough that the headboard slammed the wall in a steady, obscene rhythm. His cock twitched inside her with every thrust; each drag of her cunt squeezed tighter, slick and unforgiving. She leaned down, teeth scraping his throat, and laughed low when his back arched off the sheets. Sweat slicked their bellies. The sheets twisted around their ankles. She kept him on the edge until his voice cracked and his thighs shook, then tipped them both over the brink with a vicious little twist of her hips that stole the air from his lungs.