Every gasp, every moan escaped Alexa's lips in a broken, melodic cadence, revealing just how lost she was in the night's sinful embrace.
She leaned forward, pressing her chest against Ross, feeling the strength of his hands grip her waist, guiding her rhythm as if they were two halves of the same pulse.
Her back arched, her core tightening with every rise and fall, and her senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating mix of his scent, the slick heat enveloping her, and the sound of their bodies colliding.
Her movements grew faster, more desperate, yet there was an art to it—a dance of lust and submission that left her trembling with need.
Each wet slap against him, each deep ride, sent jolts of pleasure up her spine, blurring her vision, making her heart pound so loudly she feared he could hear it. And still, she did not stop.
Every inch of her body, every pulse of her being, was fully committed to the act, riding him as if nothing else in the world existed.
