Her thighs grip you like a vice, knees planted wide as she takes control — every slow grind deliberate, calculated, watching your face for the exact moment your composure breaks.

She knows you belong to someone else. That knowledge moves through her hips like electricity, each downward push a quiet act of possession, dark eyes locked onto yours without apology or hesitation.

You feel the rhythm build — her pace quickening, nails pressing crescents into your chest, breath catching sharp between her teeth as she chases exactly what she came for, leaving no doubt who's truly in charge tonight.