She’s been waiting all day to do this. Blonde hair piled messy on top of her head, pearls still around her neck from breakfast, now she’s got that young guy pinned against the wardrobe by his belt. Fingers hook into lace stockings just as they rip free—no warning, no mercy in how she pulls him inside. Bedroom light catches the stretch marks on her hips as she straddles him first thing, grinding slow enough to make his teeth ache before slamming back down hard enough the bed shakes. No lube needed when a woman knows exactly what she wants—and how to take it.
