She's in control

Emily rocked down on him again, swallowing him whole, her thighs trembling with the effort to keep silent. His cock—thick, iron-hard, still twitching from that first plunge—dragged against every sensitive inch inside her as she rode him slow, then faster, her soaked body clapping softly against his.

Ryan’s hands clamped down on her ass, fingers spreading wide to hold her steady, but he didn’t guide her—couldn’t. She was in control. She had him. Her cunt squeezed tight around him every time she sank down, sucking him deeper, hungrier. The stretch burned in the most perfect way, the kind of fullness that made her hips stutter on instinct, made her teeth grit to stifle the noise.

“Oh—Emily—” he hissed, head falling against her shoulder, his voice cracking. He was panting. His cock pulsed hard inside her, every inch thick, swollen, still slick with her arousal and the shower pouring down around them. “You feel—fuck, you feel so good—”

“Shh,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot. She tightened her arms around his neck, ground her hips against him in short, brutal circles. “They’ll hear.”

The curtain flapped faintly in the wet steam. Just feet away, a man cleared his throat in the next stall.

Ryan’s whole body went rigid—but Emily didn’t stop.

She bit his earlobe, tugged, then whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”

Then she slammed herself down again.

The soft, wet slap of skin against skin was barely masked by the water.

He twitched violently inside her, a muffled grunt lost in her shoulder.

Her pussy fluttered, her clit brushing against his pelvis each time she rocked her hips forward. His abs tensed under her belly, tight as cables. She could feel his restraint, the way he held himself back from moving—barely. He was going to snap.

She wanted him to snap.

She leaned back just enough to watch his face.

His lips parted, jaw slack, eyes glazed. Her nipples dragged up his chest with every motion, the contact so raw she nearly gasped. She clenched around him again, deliberate.

He bucked.

“Oh god,” he mouthed.

“Cum for me,” she whispered, riding him faster, harder now, her hips slapping against him with wet urgency.

And then—he did.

His whole body jerked as he let out a strangled moan, his cock twitching violently inside her. Hot, thick pulses filled her as his orgasm tore through him, his hands gripping her so hard she’d feel the fingerprints later. His thighs shook, his hips bucked, and he buried his face against her neck to keep from crying out.

And still, she kept grinding.

She wasn’t done.

Not yet.