His c*m was still leaking out of me, sliding down my inner thigh in slow trails as I straddled his lap on the couch.
Ethan’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts, his hands still clamped to my hips like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. His c**k—softening but still half-hard inside me—twitched every time my p***y fluttered with aftershocks. The silk robe had slipped off one shoulder entirely, hanging open like a curtain, and the lace bra I’d worn for no one but myself was pushed down under my t**s, n*****s hard and wet from his mouth.
I leaned in, kissed the corner of his lips, tasted the salt of his sweat. “You okay, baby?”
He nodded, eyes wide, pupils blown so dark the hazel was nearly gone. “I… yeah. Holy s**t. That was…” His voice cracked on the last word, and he laugh
