Her tits still heaved, nipples drilling the air, soft whimpers escaping her lips.
"Fuck…fuck… oh god…"
"The table's absolutely drowned," I growled, licking my lips clean of her taste, watching her pussy quiver through the lingering shocks, faint wet slaps still echoing in the quiet. "Miami was worth every second of waiting. Ready for round two?"
The table had become a battlefield—dark walnut wood gleaming under broad streaks and deep puddles of her slick, glistening like molten glass in the dying sunset light, thick with the wine-honey tang of her release.
The air hung heavy, saturated with the intoxicating blend of ocean brine, raw musk, sweet honey, and sex—thick as velvet fog, clinging to every ragged breath.
