Seamus lay sprawled on the soft bed, breath ragged, the only sounds in the room the faint hum of cooling lust and the occasional, gentle moan from Isolde, still riding the high of her last climax.
Her pussy was stuffed with his cum, the thick mess spilling onto the sheets. Her mind felt hazy, her body heavy, but her lust… still burning.
"How was it? Good?" he asked with a smug curl of his lips.
Isolde's reply came soft, almost teasing. "Not bad."
"Not bad?" he snorted. "You were moaning like an animal and begging me to keep fucking you. I'll just assume you've realized I'm as good as I said I was."
She chuckled low in her throat. "Ahh… you mean that sloppy, wild rutting? Like an animal in heat?"
Her grin widened. "But you're not wrong. I do enjoy being manhandled… But Seamus, did you really think it was over?"
