Nobody talked.
Dahlia just stood there with her arms crossed, looking completely done with the situation. Nash was still buried deep inside Rumi, and Rumi wasn't in any rush to move. She was just sitting there on him, and you could actually see a wet line of cream cooling down his thigh. It was so quiet in the room that you could literally hear the drips.
Rumi blinked at Dahlia. Dahlia blinked back. Nash just stared up at the ceiling, probably praying the gods would just give him proof that three rounds were enough, although, at this point, he had found an alternative.
One second. Two. Three.
Then, Rumi shifted her hips.
A wet, sliding sound filled the air, her ass slapped against his hips with a meaty thwack. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his chest, and then bounced again, harder this time. A fat glob of white squeezed out around him with a loud, squelching sound.
