The slow, reverent exploration gave way to a more focused, passionate assault.
Ashanti's confidence grew with every groan she elicited from him, with every twitch of his hips. She was no longer just worshipping; she was claiming.
She wanted to own his pleasure, to be the sole architect of his ecstasy.
She took him deeper into her mouth, her lips forming a tight, perfect seal around his shaft. Her head began to bob, establishing a smooth, sultry rhythm.
Ashanti was swirling, twisting her head slightly on the downstroke, her tongue doing a wicked dance along the sensitive underside of his cock.
Her hand, which had been stroking the base, tightened its grip, moving in perfect counterpoint to her mouth, creating a seamless, velvety tunnel of pleasure.
"Gods, Ashanti... your mouth," Jax grunted, his hands fisting in the sheets beside him.
