Dervic pov

By now, she was practically soaking the bed, her wetness trailing down her thighs like a silent invitation, one that begged my tongue to follow, to trace, to taste.

Her pink folds glistened under the light, teasing, tempting, and every nerve in my body screamed to take her, to taste her, to devour her whole.

But right then, she spoke, still laughing.

This time, her voice was firmer, edged sharp with command.

“Haha… that’s a good boy.” She looked down at me, eyes ...