Aragon watched, mesmerized, one hand sliding up her belly to thumb her clit in rough circles, the other pinching a nipple to heighten her arch.
She came first, unexpectedly swift—a clench and flood that soaked his balls, her cry sharp and unrestrained, her body convulsing around him like a fist.
"Yes—fuck, boy, yes!"
But she didn't stop, grinding through the aftershocks, chasing more, her experience turning peak to fuel.
Emboldened, he surged up, wrapping arms around her to flip them without dislodging. Now she lay beneath him, legs hooked over his elbows to fold her open, braided hair fanning across the pillows like a crown of frost and steel.
He drove into her with renewed vigor, each plunge a claim—deep, punishing strokes that bottomed out with a grind, his pubic bone mashing her clit. Simona's nails raked his back, leaving fire trails that made him hiss, her heels digging into his sides to spur him faster.
"Harder, nephew," she demanded, voice fraying at the edges.
