She was supposed to be folding laundry on the couch, not letting him fuck her like she’s been dreaming about it for years. Lace panties pooled around her knees as his hands grip those hips—no foreplay, just raw need. Bent over the armrest, ass up and ready. He doesn’t even ask; she knew what he wanted before he did. First it’s slow, teasing thrusts while she bites that bottom lip like this isn’t happening. Then—fuck—he pulls out all the way and drives back in so hard her tits slap against the cushion. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. She reaches back without hesitation, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist like a vise as he flips her onto her back mid-motion.
