Slowly. Drawing the fullness of her into his mouth — the weight of her breast pulled taut, his lips sealed around her with the comfortable attention of a man who had decided to stay here, his cock still inside her, still warm, still present.
He pulled back an inch.
The specific wet sound of him withdrawing — slow, deliberate, making her feel every inch of the withdrawal against walls that had spent the last several minutes learning his dimensions — and then the rush of what followed, her body releasing what he'd left inside her in a warm, continuous outpour, mixed with the blood of her first time, with the clear evidence of her orgasm, running in thin streams down the inner surface of her remaining thigh and dripping from the cut-off edge of her left leg where he held her.
His mouth released her nipple with a soft, obscene pop.
He looked at her.
