The room was quiet now except for our slow breathing and the soft rustle of sheets. Lara lay half on top of me, cheek pressed to my chest, one leg hooked over my thigh. Her garter straps were still clipped to her stockings, the black lace digging gently into her skin. My left arm was wrapped around her back, keeping her close, while my right hand rested on one of her heavy breasts—fingers lazily circling the soft curve, thumb brushing her nipple every few seconds.
She lifted her head just enough to look at me, dark eyes lazy and satisfied. Her hand slid down my stomach again, fingers wrapping around my dick—still half-hard and slick from earlier. She gave it a slow, gentle stroke, feeling it twitch in her palm.
"So mister handsome…" she said, voice low and playful, "…tell me, do you have a girlfriend or someone?"
I let out a small breath, hand squeezing her breast once.
"Not really…" I said.
She raised an eyebrow, smirking a little.
