My head lolled back, and I bit my bottom lip on a curse before I looked in the mirror again. Maven just smirked, hinging at the waist, allowing me better access to drive it in. My first strokes were slow, calculated, like I was pushing reps in the gym. Withdrawing for four breaths, pressing in for one, holding for two, and then repeating again. And the whole time I was torn between watching Maven’s ecstasy in the mirror, or where her ass rippled every time my hips slammed into her.
