For a long moment, she lay there, a boneless, sweat-drenched heap on the dusty floorboards, her bronze skin glistening like it had been oiled under the single bulb's amber haze, every curve and hollow catching the light in slow, wet streaks.
My face was still painted with her, thick, creamy evidence cooling in tacky rivers across my cheeks, chin, and lips, the taste of her cunt so thick on my tongue that swallowing felt like drinking her all over again. The air was a humid, suffocating cloud of pure sex, raw, animal, her musk so heavy it clung to the back of my throat with every breath.
Then, slowly, she pushed herself up on trembling elbows, the movement languid, feline, every muscle in her back and shoulders rippling under the sheen of sweat that traced the delicate, sinful curve of her spine like liquid gold.
