Her lips part in that knowing smirk—the kind only a woman who’s been fucked a thousand times wears. Eyes half-lidded, watching his cock disappear inch by inch between her thighs. ‘Harder,’ she whispers when he hesitates, gripping his shoulders like she owns him already. Bent over the armchair at an angle that makes her tits sway just right, legs spread so wide they could probably fit another guy inside. His hands on her hips now—no finesse here—just raw thrusts that make the fabric of her stockings squeak with every slap against her ass.