69 in His Arms: A War of Pleasure**

The way she inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut like she was breathing in pure ecstasy—fuck. His cock twitched, and she let out a breathy whimper, hands gripping his thighs.

"Fuck," Justin exhaled, watching her like she was a wild animal on the verge of losing control.

Then she licked a slow stripe from his base to his tip, her tongue warm, wet, and far too teasing. Before he could react, she was standing, her eyes locked onto his with wicked intent.

"My turn," she whispered.

Justin didn't hesitate. His hands gripped her dress, and unlike her, he didn't need to rip it—he unzipped it slow, peeling it off her body like she was the finest thing he'd ever unwrapped.

But he didn't stop there. His fingers traced her thighs, hooked into her lace panties, and in one swift move—he tore them. Fabric ripped against his fingers, the sound sharp in the charged air. He didn't even bother looking at where it landed. His gaze was on her, fully bare, fully his.