Harry thrust into her without hesitation, unapologetic and all-consuming.
Eve cried out, her voice echoing through the room as her nails raked across his back and arm, clinging to him like her life depended on it.
"Ahh… Harry…" she gasped, her head falling back, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation overtook her.
He wasn't unaffected either—Harry groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt her slick, aching walls welcome him in with ease.
"Fuck…" he hissed through clenched teeth. "You're drenched… so fucking tight and wet. God, I fucking love it…"
Eve didn't even hear his words—she was too far gone, lost in the rhythm of his slow, deliberate movements, each thrust stoking the fire he'd ignited in her.
Their bodies moved in a sensual memory of the past, passion reborn in the present. It wasn't just sex—it was a reckoning.
