Sin-hub
He stops tapping, his hand finds her hair again, and grabs it in a bunch.
“Didn't know I turned you on this much.” She spits on his cock, smoothly traps it beneath her fingers, and rubs it all over his length.
He hisses through clenched teeth, lets go of her hair to hold the hem of his shirt. “You should look in the mirror, sweetie.” He raises his shirt, exposing his fine abs. His skin is smooth, glistening caramel, like chocolate dipped in syrup.
“You don't give us the option to be saints.” With his chin, he pins his shirt to his chest, and cups her small face in his palm. “You must love making a man sin.”