Gasping raggedly, Su Mengyan writhed under the fresh, relentless onslaught. The intense stimulation surged through her, dragging her body—half-willing, half-compelled—back onto the frantic road toward another peak.
"Mmm... ah... yes... mmm..."
Wang Yue hooked her stocking-clad thighs over his forearms, pinning them wide, allowing his heavy shaft to drive home with every plunge, rhythmically battering her core.
Seeing her engorged breasts swaying wildly with his movements—sending literal waves of flesh rippling across her chest—Wang Yue leaned down, burying his face against her.
He took one breast into his mouth, his teeth grazing her turgid nipple before his tongue traced a slow, agonizing path from the base to the tip.
Su Mengyan was utterly lost in her son's technique. Her arousal was pushed to a fever pitch. Her hands instinctively locked around his waist, her pale, slender legs spreading as far as they could go.
