Zolani’s pov.
He smiled dark, yet tender.
“Then we take it slow,” he said.
He rolled us slowly until I was on top, straddling him, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.
The shift was deliberate, unhurried, like he was giving me time to feel every inch of the change, the way my weight settled, the press of his body beneath me, the hard ridge of his c**k trapped beneath the fabric of his trousers, throbbing insistently against my soaked core.
My dress was still rucked up around my waist, panties gone, and the cool air of the room kissed the slick skin between my thighs. I shivered half from the temperature, and half from the raw exposure.
“Ride my thigh,” he ordered softly, voice gravel-rough and low, the kind of quiet that made my spine straighten and my n
