One occasion

Bellina had just slipped past her twentieth birthday. Nights meant movement, skin, the promise of something quick and private. James Brossman knew that mood and how to meet it. The two of them met, wasted little time on words, and settled straight into it. She dropped to her knees, hair a sweep of bright blonde, and took him in her mouth with an easy hunger. He let her work, steady and deep, until the wet sounds of her lips filled the room. When he flipped her onto her back she opened for him without hesitation. His cock slid home, driving into her with measured force, the pace rising until every thrust hit the same tight spot. Her body answered with small, sudden spasms. He kept going until he spilled inside her, pulse after pulse, and she took it all, staying open beneath him until the last throb faded.