Inmediato

My body trembles against him, utterly spent but still aching for more. I feel his hands in my hair, his hips moving with that same relentless rhythm, and I let myself float in the sensation—his taste, his scent, the weight of him in my mouth. My eyes flutter closed for a moment before I force them open again, locking onto his, my gaze hazy and worshipful. A soft, desperate whimper escapes my throat as I feel him twitch against my tongue. I know what's coming. I want it. I need it. My fingers dig into his thigh, nails leaving crescents in his skin as I brace myself, opening my throat wider, taking him deeper. I hum around him, a low, pleading sound that vibrates through his cock, begging him silently to give me everything. Tears streak down my temples, pooling in my ears as I lie there, completely undone, completely his. My body is a mess of sweat and spit and spent desire, but I've never felt more alive. I hold his gaze, my eyes glassy and full of raw, unfiltered need—waiting, wanting, praying for him to finally let go and fill my throat with his release.