At Eliantra's ass spreading and clapping and spreading.
At the sound filling the room.
Something moved through Rihana's body that bypassed thought entirely — the pure, trained, pavlovian response of a woman whose hips had spent a night learning one rhythm — and before she had consciously decided to do it, she was 'moving.'
She crossed to him.
Both arms wrapped around his back from behind. Her heavy, full breasts pressed flat against his shoulder blades, the nipples dragging against his shirt fabric. Her hips found his ass and she 'pushed' — driving herself forward with each of his thrusts, adding her weight to his, slamming herself into his back so the combined impact drove him deeper into Eliantra with each stroke.
PAAH!!
"AAAANGHHH~~!!! NGH—NGHHHH~!!!"
The depth changed.
Nine inches found ten.
