Sarah opened her eyes slowly, dazedly meeting mine. A slow, exhausted, deeply satisfied smile touched her lips.
"Wow," she whispered, her voice hoarse, wrecked. "Just… wow." She reached a trembling hand towards me, not to push away, but to pull me closer.
Her fingers brushed the straining ridge in my jeans, feeling the solid proof of my own desperate need. The touch was electric. Her eyes weren't just satisfied; they held dawning understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the sacred line we had just incinerated together in our own kitchen.
The kitchen foreplay was over. But the real claiming? It had just begun. And every drop of her release on my skin felt like a brand.
I stood before her, chest heaving, the taste of her climax still buzzing on my lips, my cock a rigid demand against my jeans.
