"Open your mouth, Freya," he commanded, his tone a molten promise that sent a jolt of heat spiraling through her core.
Freya's lips parted, soft and eager, her breath a warm tease as she leaned closer, her tongue darting out to trace the tip of his cock with a bold, languid swirl.
The taste of him—salty, heady—ignited her senses, her lips stretching to envelop his girth as she took him deeper, her mouth a wet, inviting sanctuary.
She moved with a slow, sensual rhythm, her head bobbing gently, cheeks hollowing with each deliberate pull. The vibrations of her muffled moans rippled against him, a primal hum that set his nerves ablaze.
"Fuck, Freya," Kael groaned, his voice raw and guttural, low, his hands tightening on her wrists, pinned above her head against the cool wood of the booth's wall. "You've gotten so damn good at this."
