Phei's mouth left hers with a wet, slow pull—lips parting on a shared, ragged breath, tongues lingering in one last filthy glide, tasting each other like they were starving, before he finally broke away.
Patricia's eyes fluttered open—dark, glassy, pupils blown so wide the gold morning light pouring through the glass barely registered in them. Her lips were swollen, slick with spit and need, parted on shallow pants that made her heavy tits rise and fall against his chest.
He didn't speak.
He simply hooked his big hands under her thighs—thighs red from gripping her all night, possessive, unyielding—and lifted her in one smooth, effortless motion, like she weighed nothing.
Her legs parted instinctively, wrapping tight around his waist as he turned them both.
The towel fell away somewhere between one heartbeat and the next—sliding to the floor in a soft heap—leaving him bare against her.
