The air thickened with the scent of jasmine and salt, sweat beading on their skin as Nash began to move.
His first withdrawal was agonizingly slow, a long drag of his cockhead against Zayela's inner walls.
Her pussy clung to him, velvety ridges gripping his shaft like a silken fist refusing to let go.
Her wetness gathered thickly around his base, a slick coat that glistened under the dim light.
As he pulled back, her inner folds stretched taut, revealing the flushed pink of her depths, glistening and quivering.
A high, breathless gasp tore from Zayela's throat. Her hips arched off the sofa cushion, spine curving like a drawn bowstring.
"Ah! Nash—!"
He sank back in, deeper this time. Her entrance yielded with a soft, wet shlck, swallowing him whole.
Her thighs clamped harder around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, forcing him deeper still.
