Midnight Strokes
Adeyemi braced against the tiles, came quietly—thighs trembling, a low moan swallowed by the water.
They moved to the rooftop terrace—moon rising, lanterns flickering. Cushions spread under the stars. Layla laid Adeyemi down, kissed her way down her body again—breasts, stomach, thighs—then settled between her legs.
“Want to taste you until you forget your name,” Layla whispered.
She did—slow, patient, tongue and fingers working together until Adeyemi came again—back arching, cry tearing out into the warm night.
They collapsed together—sweat-slick, breathing hard—Layla’s head on Adeyemi’s chest.
Bab Populer