"That's my girl," Riley murmured, his voice dark and approving.
His hands roamed down her body, sliding over her trembling thighs, caressing her soft skin as he adjusted his angle.
Fay gasped when she felt the shift, the deeper press of him inside her.
And then, Riley moved.
This time, it was different.
The slow, careful strokes he had started with grew firmer, more deliberate. He wasn't rushing—no, he was still taking his time—but there was an unmistakable shift in his control. He was testing her, pushing deeper, drawing out the pleasure that had just begun to bloom within her.
Fay's breathing grew ragged, her moans coming faster, sweeter, her body arching to meet his thrusts.
"Ohhh…" she gasped, her fingers curling into his shoulders, her nails digging lightly into his skin.
Riley groaned, his grip on her thighs tightening.
"Fuck, Fay… you feel so good."
The praise made her shiver.
