I stayed buried inside her, still hard, still thick and pulsing with the last echoes of my release.
Our bodies were slick with sweat and her release, trembling together in the aftermath. Her pussy fluttered weakly around my shaft—soft, exhausted little squeezes that told me she was drained, but the fire in her eyes said she was far from done.
She lifted her head from my shoulder. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed deep rose, lips swollen and parted. For a long moment she simply looked at me—like she was measuring something inside herself and finding it more than enough.
Then she smiled.
Slow. Knowing. The smile of a woman who had just remembered she could command the room without raising her voice.
"Enough lying down," she whispered, voice rough from hours of crying my name.
Her hands planted on my chest—palms flat, fingers splayed, nails pressing just enough to remind me who was deciding now.
She pushed.
I let her.
