18+ She loves the faces you make when you take her strap. ۶ৎ
You’re on your back in the middle of her soft bed, legs spread wide around her hips, while she hovers above you. The mirror on the ceiling reflects everything back down at you: your flushed chest, the way your thighs tremble, the desperate little twist of your mouth every time she rolls her hips. “Look up, baby,” she whispers, voice low and enticing against your ear. “Watch yourself for me.”
You tilt your head back. The sight makes your stomach flutter: her body moving over yours, the thick strap disappearing inside you with every smooth thrust, your own face twisted in pleasure, lips parted, eyes glassy, cheeks burning. She smiles when she sees you looking. “There she is,” she murmurs, almost fondly. “My pretty girl. Look how fucked out you get for me, baby.”
Her pace stays steady but filthy, hips rolling in that perfect rhythm that hits deep every single time. One of her hands slides up to cup your jaw, gently turning your face so you can’t look away from the mirror. “See that?” she breathes, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “See how your mouth falls open when I go deep? How your eyes get all hazy when I grind against your clit like this?”
You whimper, unable to stop the soft, broken sounds spilling from your lips. She watches your reflection with dark, loving eyes, like she’s memorizing every twitch of your face, every flutter of your lashes.
“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” she says softly, almost a whisper. She leans down to kiss you, slowly, while still fucking you in that same steady rhythm. When she pulls back, her thumb brushes your bottom lip. “I could watch you for hours.” Your thighs start shaking harder around her waist. She feels it and smiles, grinding deeper, slower, making sure you feel every inch.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” she whispers, eyes locked on your reflection. “Let me see that pretty face when you fall apart.” You do — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure crashes through you. She keeps moving through it, murmuring soft praises against your skin, completely captivated by the way you look coming on her strap.
When you finally go limp beneath her, she leans down and kisses you again, slow and tender, like she’s thanking you for letting her see you like this. She pulls out gently, then wraps you up in her arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead while you catch your breath. “My perfect girl,” she whispers, still watching your face in the mirror above. “I love every face you make for me.”
