Jan Week 3: Spa Day with Samantha...he is going to cum...[Cowgirl]

Leah laughed, a bright, wicked sound, and ground down on him even harder. She wanted to make him lose control, wanted to ruin him the way he’d ruined her composure only minutes before. Her hair fell forward, curtaining her face, and sweat beaded along her collarbones. She could feel herself chasing the edge again, the orgasm building deep in her belly, threatening to cut her in half.

“Holy shit,” Ethan gasped, trying and failing to maintain his spa attendant’s poker face. “You’re—”

Leah cut him off, pounding down on his cock and wringing a groan from his chest. “Don’t you dare stop,” she said, grinning like a devil. Her thighs burned from the effort, but she loved the ache, loved the way his cock filled her, loved the filthy, athletic violence of it all. She wanted to ride him until she broke herself, until she couldn’t walk out of here without a limp and a guilty smile.

He was close, too—she could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, see it in the panic and wonder that flickered across his face. But she beat him there, slamming herself down and grinding in tight circles as the orgasm ripped through her, white-hot and shameless. She cried out, uncaring, and collapsed forward onto his chest, still twitching as his cock throbbed inside her.

For a moment neither of them moved, both panting, both sweating, both staring at the ceiling like they were waiting for God Himself to call the cops. Leah inhaled the ozone-and-citrus scent from the air filter and grinned against his skin.

He was close—she could tell by the way his thrusts lost rhythm, the slap of their bodies even more urgent, uneven. She saw his face twisted in raw, animal need. The sight of it made her clench again, made her want to pull him apart, devour him, spit him out and do it again.

“Fuck—“ he groaned, and she knew he was right there, teetering on the edge. “You are going to make me fucking cum…” He said it as if in question of ‘where should I leave my load.’ No doubt he would pull out as he wasn’t using a condom, and he didn’t know if Leah was on birth control—she was risky enough to be fucking a stranger so who knew what other kind of risks she might take. For a split second, time stretched, and Leah was hyperaware of the moment: her body spread open, raw and dripping, his cock swelling inside her, the obscene squelch and slap of their fucking, the way her own nails left angry red tracks down the length of the table.