She kept riding him.
The sound of it filled the hotel room, continuous and rhythmic, her hips rising and falling with a pace that had nothing hurried about it, like she had all the time in the world and had decided to use it.
Ta. Ta. Ta. Ta.
Liam lay on the carpet beneath her and sweated.
He could feel it.
Not the normal heat of exertion.
Something else.
Something moving outward from his core in slow steady increments, like warmth leaving a room through a gap you couldn't find.
His body was present and responding the way bodies responded but underneath that response something was being subtracted.
'I can feel it,' he thought. 'I'm losing something and I can't explain it in any terms that make sense.'
"Haaa—" She rolled her hips forward on the next stroke and looked down at him with her eyes half closed and her dark hair falling around her face. "Your dick is delicious." She tilted her head. "It's a shame you have to die."
