"No way," she said, staring at him. "You're still hard after all of that. What the hell are you made of."
Liam looked at her lying on the mat, chest still heaving, skin still flushed, and said nothing about the question.
"Turn over," he said.
She looked at him for a second. Then she pushed herself over onto her stomach, her arms finding the mat, and she planted both hands flat on the floor and raised her hips up, her butt pushed back and high, her back sloping down toward her hands like a ramp. Her legs were straight, her toes pressed into the mat, everything pointed upward.
Liam moved behind her.
He looked at the view for a moment.
Her butt was right there, round and high in the air, the curve of it catching the light in the room, her pussy visible from this angle, pink and wet and already swollen from everything that had come before.
He pushed in.
"Oh," she said, her arms locking straight to absorb it.
