Page 77 of Veil of Dust

She starts to move, hips rolling slowly, every shift calculated.

She drags her body against mine, her pace steady. Her breasts brush my chest. Her breath fans across my cheek.

“Don’t hold back,” she says.

“I won’t.”

She rides me harder.

Each bounce slaps against my thighs. Mud flies up. Our bodies slide together in sweat and grit.

She slams down again and again.

I grip her hips tighter, guiding her.

She throws her head back, mouth open.

Her nails scrape down my chest.

I hiss.

“God—fuck, Vespera—”

“Say it again.”

“Vespera.”

“Louder.”

“Vespera.”

Her rhythm falters.

I take over, thrusting up into her. Harder. Deeper.

She screams, “Right there—”

Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her thighs tremble around me.

“I’m—” she gasps.

“Let go,” I say.

I keep thrusting.

Faster.

“Let go, baby—”

She shatters.

Whole body shaking and clamping, mouth open in a soundless cry.

Her hips jerk.

Her hands grip my wrists.

She comes hard.

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