Your p***y is Dripping
Kai carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing, my legs still locked around his waist, my arms around his neck. Every step pressed his c**k against my soaked core through our clothes, the friction making me whimper softly against his mouth. I could feel how hard he was — thick, insistent, throbbing with the same need that was making my p***y ache. My shorts were ruined, the crotch dark and clinging to my folds, and I knew he could feel the heat and wetness of me.
He kicked my bedroom door open and carried me inside, lips never leaving mine. The kiss was messy now — tongues sliding, teeth nipping, breaths shared in short, desperate gasps. He tasted like beer and something darker, something that made my head spin. When he lowered me onto the bed, the mattress
