"Nnnh—" The sound left her lips unfiltered—soft, desperate, and completely involuntary.
"Eyes forward," I said. "This is what you look like when someone sees and treat you like you deserve to."
She swallowed hard. Her lips were quivering. Her chest—heaving like she'd run a marathon.
And then—
"Ahh—ahhh… Peter…"
That moan was raw. Dragged from somewhere deep. It cut through the steam like lightning and hit me straight in the gut. I growled into her neck and slid my hand slowly up her inner thigh, grazing the edge of where she needed me most. Her breath hitched hard.
"Ah! F-fuck…"
Her hands reached for the vanity, grabbing the marble like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her nails scratched the surface. Her reflection in the mirror was flushed. Shaking. Unraveling.
I kissed her shoulder, trailed my tongue along the curve of her neck, and bit—gentle, claiming.
"Hnnhh—ahhh!"
That moan was higher. Sharp. Her head tilted back, her body pressing harder into me.
