Vee had absolutely no idea what was chasing him. She loved it unreservedly. She braced her palms flat against the table, redistributing her weight, finding the angle he was driving toward and holding it — that specific, particular angle that did things to her central nervous system she lacked the vocabulary to adequately describe. All she knew was it made her question the structural integrity of her knees.
His cock and his hand working simultaneously was a form of sensory overload she was wholly unprepared for. It turned her inside out. Unspooled her. Took everything organised and coherent inside her and scattered it cheerfully.
Her cries came out broken, spilling into the quiet of the room, and the relentless and rhythmic sound of skin against skin filled the space. It gave her a glorious, heady, spinning feeling. "Keep going—" She pressed back against him, chasing the rhythm. "Keep going!"
