Fashion House #01

Andy showed up without calling. Just rapped his knuckles on India's door and there he was, late and hungry. She pulled him inside by his belt. They barely made it past the kitchen before she dropped to her knees, taking him deep, lips stretched, throat working fast. Her hands dug into his thighs, nails leaving half-moons. Andy hauled her up, spun her around, and shoved her skirt over her hips. He ripped her panties aside and drove in, thick and sudden, making her cry out into the cool air of the room. Every thrust shoved her hips into the counter. She clawed at the edge, breath hitching each time he bottomed out. He reached around, thumb circling her swollen clit, dragging it back and forth like he had all night and knew exactly how to wreck her. The pressure built quick and mean until her whole body snapped, squeezing him hard. He cursed against her neck, buried himself as far as he could go, and let go, heat flooding into her while she shivered through the aftershocks, both of them still half-dressed and panting.