“That’s it,” he mutters. His voice is raspy and deep, and I close my eyes, focusing on it and the feelings. “You look so good, sweetheart. So good at riding me. And fuck you’re so pretty. Too pretty, it hurts to look at you, but I can’t look away. That’s it, Isa… that’s it. You feel so good, too good. I need to feel it when you come around me.” I do.
