We moved together, a slow grind at first, each thrust measured, as if we were drawing out the inevitable. The leather creaked beneath us, the scent of our shared arousal mingling with the room's sterile air, heightening every sensation. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me to meet him, and I clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would linger like memories.
The rhythm built, our bodies slick with sweat, the sounds of our joining—wet, urgent—filling the space, a symphony of desperation. I felt the coil of pleasure tightening inside me, each deep stroke pushing me closer to the precipice of release, my body arching beneath him in a desperate plea for the storm to break. His thrusts deepened, each one a deliberate, unyielding claim that sent shockwaves of pl
