Dina's hands slid up, grasping Steve's thighs as if clinging to stability in the chaos of sensation. Her fingers tightened, not in protest, but in need—searching for something to anchor herself to as he moved deeper.
Above her, Steve's hands were tangled in her hair, holding it back with a firm grip that gave him full control. His fingers curled tightly, guiding her head, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
He groaned low in his throat, hips rolling forward with increasing urgency.
Every thrust into her mouth was deeper, wetter, more desperate. The lewd sounds of her throat being filled echoed around them—slurp after slick slurp, broken only by his ragged breathing and the guttural sounds that escaped his lips.
Her saliva was everywhere now, spilling down her chin, coating his shaft in a warm, glistening sheen. And still, she took him—again and again—as his cock slid across her tongue and down her throat in smooth, hungry strokes.
