DAMIAN’S POV
She planted her hands firm on either side of my head, her nails diggin’ lightly into the leather headrest as she spread her knees wider in the cramped chair.
Her thighs flexed hot against mine.
She then settled that slick heat right over my co?ck like she owned the fcking throne.
Her breath blasted my face in short, needy bursts.
Then she rolled her hips slow, those slippery panties gliding smooth over my shaft.
The fabric dragged her swollen lips along every veined inch, the friction teasin’ her cl!t against my tip.
Pleasure ripped through me like white-hot waves crashing from the base of my spine to the crown of my head.
My skull smacked back against the leather rest, eyes slammin’ shut as a guttural groan clawed its way out of my throat.
Sh!t, she’s off rhythm, but
