Man-eater

Sanda moves like she already owns the room. Long black hair falls over one shoulder while she watches the guy on the bed, eyes half-lidded and mouth curved in a small, private smile. She climbs over him slowly, knees planted on either side of his hips, and runs her hands down his chest until she can feel how fast his heart is beating. She leans in, lips brushing his ear. "You get tonight," she whispers. "Make it count." Then her mouth slides lower—soft kisses turning into heat as she takes him between her lips, slow and wet, tongue swirling around the head until he groans and his fingers knot in her hair. She works him deeper, cheeks hollowed, saliva gleaming on his shaft every time she pulls back. Every time she sinks down again she moans around him, the sound vibrating straight through his cock. When she finally rises, she strips off the little thong in one lazy tug and sinks onto him bare. Her pussy is tight, slick, and she rides him with sharp rolls of her hips, taking him all the way to the root each time. Her tits bounce softly with every thrust; she plants her palms on his chest for leverage and grinds hard whenever she wants him deeper. He grips her waist, tries to match her rhythm, but she sets the pace and never lets him forget it. Just when he starts to buck up into her, she pulls off, drops to her knees again, and finishes him with her mouth. He comes hard across her tongue and across her cheek, the mess streaking her lips and chin. She smiles through it, licks the corner of her mouth clean, and looks up at him like she’s already thinking about who she’ll take next.