She rode him with slow, grinding rolls at first, drawing circles with her hips, letting his cock stroke every inch of her inner walls. Her head fell back, black hair spilling down her spine, sweat catching the firelight. She looked like a war goddess enthroned atop him. He watched, mesmerized—the play of her muscles, the bounce of her breasts, the way her scars caught the light.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, thrusting up to meet her.
"Keep going. Take what you need."
She leaned forward, planting her hands on his chest, grinding harder. Each downward roll drove him deeper, the head of his cock kissing her womb. She moaned, the sound low and rough, vibrating through him. She picked up speed, bouncing now, her ass slapping his thighs in a wet rhythm. Her nails dug into his pecs, leaving red crescents. He reached up, squeezing her breasts, thumbing her nipples, delighting in the way she gasped and clenched around him.
