Nash lay there, his body pressed against Zayela's trembling body, their skins fusing in a sticky, heated embrace.
His arms wrapped around her like vines claiming a tree, pulling her closer, her soft curves molding to his hard frame.
The room was a cocoon of their shared breath, heavy with the musk of sex, the tangy salt of sweat, and the faint jasmine that clung to her like a signature.
He closed his eyes, savoring the bliss, the delightful instant where time stretched like molten glass.
His hands moved of their own accord, tracing the smooth curve of her back, fingers gliding over the damp skin, feeling the vertebrae beneath like hidden pearls.
Downward they wandered, cupping her butt cheeks, the flesh plump and warm, yielding under his squeeze like ripe fruit, his thumb brushing the crease where it met her thigh.
