Cassiopeia braced both hands flat against the window above his head—palms splayed wide, arms trembling violently, heavy tits still mashed and dragging across the chilled pane with every ragged, sobbing breath.
Her nipples—dark-red, swollen to bursting—scraped raw trails against the cold glass, sending sharp jolts straight to her clit. Her thighs quaked around his ears; slick dripped steadily from her puffy outer lips, landing warm and wet on his tongue, his lips, his chin in slow, obscene drops.
He inhaled her pussy again but deeper this time than the last, shameless—nose pressing right into the slick crease beside her slit.
Her scent flooded him with a raw, musky-sweet goddess cunt, metallic-sharp with arousal, thickened by hours of teasing, denial, and the Goddess Fall still burning under her skin.
A low, animal growl rumbled from his chest straight into her flesh, vibrating through her clit and making her inner walls flutter on nothing.
