Recipe for Love

They’re chopping veg when Britney tips a spoonful and splatters red sauce straight down Mick’s shirt. She swears, grabs a towel, starts rubbing at the spot, but the second her knuckles press over his chest the air goes thick. He drops the knife, she drops the towel, and they’re on each other before the pan stops sizzling. They crash down the hallway—hands everywhere, belts snapping open, her tank top yanked up, his shirt ripped off. Mick shoves the bedroom door closed with his foot and throws her onto the mattress. Britney’s already shoving her shorts and panties down; he kicks his jeans off, cock springing free, heavy and hard. He dives between her thighs, tongue flicking her clit hard enough to make her hips jerk. She tangles fingers in his hair, pulls him deeper, moaning when he slides two thick fingers in and curls them right against her spot. Britney shoves him onto his back, crawls up, and sinks onto his cock in one long slide. They both groan. She rides him rough—slamming down, grinding, tits bouncing in his face while he grabs her ass and thrusts up. Sweat glistens; the headboard bangs the wall. Mick flips her, folds her knees to her shoulders, and pounds harder, balls slapping wet. She claws his back, calling out every time his cock bottoms out. He grits his teeth, keeps the pace brutal until she clenches around him so tight he can’t hold back—he buries deep, jerks, and pours cum inside her in heavy pulses while she shudders and clamps down, coming with him.