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... , her cave clenching, the bed rocking with his thrusts, his pace relentless, her legs trembling on his shoulders, her golden hair wild across the pillow, the orbs’ faint hum a distant pulse.

"Oh, fuck, Alex!" Sylra moaned, her voice breaking, her cave pulsing around his rod, his thrusts deep, steady, her moans a frantic rhythm—high, needy, filling the room.

"Don’t stop," she gasped, her hands reaching for him, nails digging into his arms, her body arching, the lamp’s light castin ...

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