...her eyes flicker toward the wall where someone shouldn’t be watching. Sari skirt hiked up past her hips, thighs glistening with sweat as she takes it rough on the bed. ‘Don’t stop…’ she whispers between moans, knowing full well he can hear every sloppy thrust through the plaster. His hands grip her ass cheeks hard enough to leave marks while she arches back—tits bouncing with each deep plunge. The headboard thumps against the wall in time with her gasps: ‘Fuck me like you hate me.’ No lube needed when they’re this wet.
