why in the world did she let myka talk her into these situations? was she really so damn susceptible? lennox didn’t think so, yet, here she is, bent over the side of a hot tub, bubbles from the jets rolling all around her while someone she literally met a few days ago is buried balls deep inside of her from behind. lennox doesn’t want to admit how thrilling it is, how good he feels, fucking into her, her body taut and coiled tighter than a bow string with every thrust he makes. his hands are everywhere, gliding over her pale, wet skin, and her own are curled against the edge of the tub, having lost the fight with her bikini top, which is now lost to the rolling water leaving her breasts to sway with every hard thrusts and her nipples to peak even harder against the cool night air kissing her skin. her only saving grace is that, somehow, there seems to be no one else around, because lennox can’t even imagine living down that embarrassment. it’s bad enough she hears herself begging for more, to be fucked harder, to the male behind her as she turns her head to peer back at him, cheeks flushed, pink lips parted in a heavy moan.
