The afterglow fades, but the hunger in Noah's eyes reignites something fierce inside me.
He's still sprawled on the couch, chest heaving, his c**k softening against his thigh, but I can see the spark of need lingering.
I slide off him, standing tall, the strapon still harnessed to my hips, slick with lube and his release. My lingerie clings to my sweat-damp skin, n*****s hard peaks under the lace.
I step back, circling him slowly, my bare feet silent on the carpet. The room smells of s*x—musk and salt—and the dim lights casts shadows over his marked ass, red welts from the belt glowing like badges of my claim.
'Look at you,' I murmur, voice low and commanding, laced with that newfound authority that makes my p***y throb. 'All spent, but I know you want more. Beg for my touch, Noah. Tel
