Her top—that thin, sweat-soaked grey—had ridden up and twisted during the throat-fucking frenzy. One heavy breast had spilled completely free: full, round, glistening with spit, the dark nipple swollen thick and hard, jutting out like it was begging for teeth.
The flesh jiggled with every ragged breath, heavy enough to sway, the skin flushed deep rose from arousal and exertion. The other tit strained against the translucent fabric—so soaked with drool and sweat it had gone completely see-through, clinging like a second skin, showing every detail of the stiff nipple and wide areola beneath.
He'd been so lost in her throat—the gagging, the bulging, the way she choked and came just from being face-fucked—that he'd almost forgotten the rest of her.
Almost.
"Take it off," he ordered, voice low and rough with hunger.
