Purple skirt riding up past her thighs—she wasn’t wearing panties under that. Bent him over the couch like she owned it, one hand muffling his mouth as she sinks down slow. Click of the zipper undone first, then that first deep thrust with her free hand gripping his hair. ‘You were supposed to be studying,’ she breathes against his ear, but neither of them stops when he groans too loud. Ass clenching around him through every push—no lube needed here—and when he tries to flip her? She slaps his shoulder and stays right where she is.
