Dragged in by the junk

Tiffany’s dark hand closed around him and yanked, hard enough to make Chris stumble straight toward her open thighs. She lay back on the silk sheets, legs parted, skin gleaming, and guided that grip straight to her slick heat. He didn’t need the invitation twice. One thrust and he was inside her, buried deep where she was already dripping and tight. She arched, hair spilling across the pillow, and took him again and again, chocolate thighs locked around his hips like she meant to keep every inch for herself.