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Summary
“Shit, baby—” Cumulus moans. Her legs twitch, feet popping up and hitting Aether’s shins as her thighs fight to press together. It stings, and there’s pressure like nothing else, pushing somewhere deep. Expanding until all there is is Aether; all the crackling ozone and heady musk draping itself around her and targeting precisely into that primal need to submit, to lie there and take.
But it’s good. It’s a pretty little switch in her brain that the big boys love to flip for her, and if she gets to cum hard and forget her name for a while, then being yanked from her slumber so Aether can have his way with her is worth it.