NERON
the hailstorm
Neron was drowning in her, and happily so. It was almost a relief that he couldn’t feel the frustration that would undoubtedly be mounting if he had access to all of his senses; it was enough to ride the aftershocks of pleasure. For now, at least. Strong hands squeezing the curve of her ass, Morgan arched forward and Neron could tell, even before her instruction, that he’d struck metaphorical gold.
He didn’t know if she’d be able to feel the smirk on his face, but he didn’t need to be told twice, his tongue lavishing attention against her clit with every roll of her hips, anchoring her in his grip. It wasn’t really the sort of moment where he could chit-chat, his lips somewhat occupied, but Neron was determined for Morgan to do all the talking anyway. Without so many words, of course.
He didn’t know if she’d be able to feel the smirk on his face, but he didn’t need to be told twice, his tongue lavishing attention against her clit with every roll of her hips, anchoring her in his grip. It wasn’t really the sort of moment where he could chit-chat, his lips somewhat occupied, but Neron was determined for Morgan to do all the talking anyway. Without so many words, of course.
