Caught mid-thrust with a yellow thong twisted around his wrist. She’s riding him hard on the couch, legs wrapped tight like she owns it. Tits bouncing free under that ripped shirt—Quality written across them—and every time he slams up into her, her lips part for a gasp. He flips her onto her back without asking; knees over his shoulders while she claws at the cushions. No warning. Just raw hunger.
