Phei lifted her effortlessly off where she was—hands firm under her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh just below the curve of her ass—and shifting her down on the edge of the long teacher's table now with a controlled thud.
Papers scattered in a chaotic flutter; a coffee mug tipped precariously but didn't fall.
Patricia's skirt was already rucked high from earlier; he finished the job in one smooth, brutal pull—bunching the fabric around her waist like a belt, exposing more of the black lace thong soaked dark at the crotch, the thin material clinging transparently to her swollen lips, outlining every puffy fold and the engorged clit pressing against it.
He stepped between her legs and spread them wider—knees hooked over his forearms, opening her completely. The thong clung obscenely—translucent with arousal, a thick, clear strand of wetness stretching between the lace and her puffy folds when he tugged it aside just enough to expose her.
