Zahra's POV He finds a rhythm then, long slow strokes that hit so deep I feel him in my throat. Each thrust pushes a sound from my lips, a gasping moan that echoes off the tile. My breasts sway with the motion, nipples brushing against the cool stone of the bench. The contrast of temperatures, cool stone against my front, hot water on my back, his burning heat inside me, has my senses spinning.His hand leaves my clit, both palms now gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls me back onto him with each thrust, meeting my body with his, and the slap of wet skin fills the shower.“Look at you, Angel” he says, his voice ragged. “Taking all of me. So good. So perfect.”I can’t respond. I'm beyond words now, lost
Read more