Peter held her through it—arms locked around her waist like steel bands—rocking her gently on his cock, prolonging every flutter, every tremor, murmuring praise into her skin in a low, reverent litany. "That's my girl… coming so hard… feel how deep you let me…"
When the aftershocks finally eased she collapsed against his chest—gasping, shaking, utterly spent—but her hips still rolled in tiny, greedy circles, chasing the lingering sparks, already aching for more, her pussy clenching softly around him in sleepy, possessive pulses.
Peter guided her with steady, reverent hands—palms broad and warm under her thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive crease where leg met hip—lifting her just enough to shift without breaking their connection.
"Come here, baby," he murmured, voice low and thick with care, "let me turn you slow. I've got every inch of you."
