I held myself perfectly still, buried as deep as her body would allow. The heat of her enveloped me, scorching, slick, and impossibly tight, her inner walls fluttering around every inch like a living vice. The mattress creaked faintly beneath us, the only sound besides the ragged drag of our breathing in the dim, golden lamplight.
Sherry lay pinned under me, chest heaving in sharp waves. Sweat traced a glistening path down the hollow of her throat and between the soft, heavy curves of her breasts. Her short brunette hair fanned wildly across the pillow, damp strands clinging to her forehead. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark and glassy, lips parted on shallow, trembling breaths as she struggled to adjust to the thick stretch.
"Okay," I rasped against the shell of her ear, my voice rough. "Now we move."
