*Creak. Creak.*
The bed rocked steadily under us, springs complaining every time our bodies met. The soft white lights in the room stayed dim, casting long shadows across the white sheets that were already twisted and damp. Our clothes lay scattered on the floor—her blue dress in a crumpled pile near the door, my shirt and pants thrown somewhere near the foot of the bed. No music from downstairs made it through the thick walls anymore. Just our breathing, our moans, and the wet slap of skin against skin.
Lara was on all fours in front of me, back arched deep, ass high. Her dark hair hung loose, sticking to her sweaty shoulders. Every thrust pushed her forward a little, then she pushed right back, meeting me halfway.
"Ahh… ahhm… ahh…" Her moans came out in short, broken bursts. Her body rocked with each hit—breasts swinging heavy underneath her, nipples brushing the sheets.
