She took him back into her mouth without waiting for an answer.
This time there was no tentative exploration left in her. She sucked harder, messier, cheeks hollowing with every upward pull while one hand stroked the thick base she still couldn't fully swallow and the other braced against his thigh for leverage.
The wet, greedy sounds of her mouth filled the space between the ironwood trunks without pause.
Feeling it, Sol's control frayed another notch.
He began meeting her mouth with short, controlled thrusts, fucking her face in a slow, deep rhythm that turned the already filthy noises thoroughly obscene.
Spit ran down her chin in continuous rivulets and dripped onto the moss in dark spots. Her dark hair stuck to her damp cheeks in messy strands.
Every time he pushed a little deeper she took it… throat fluttering around the intrusion, eyes glassy with pure, feral need… never once trying to pull away or slow him down.
