Isabella thought he was done.
Her body was still trembling, legs weak, skin flushed, breath shaky. The aftershocks of her last orgasm still pulsed through her veins, leaving her sprawled against the couch, barely able to move. Her chest heaved, lips parted, her mind floating between exhaustion and lingering pleasure.
But Justin?
He wasn't finished.
Not even close.
He loomed over her, broad shoulders casting a shadow over her limp form. His breathing was steady, controlled—nothing like hers, which was still ragged and uneven, his cock still hard, still coated in her slick, still throbbing against his stomach.
His lips curled into a dark, knowing smirk, and Isabella felt her stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Her mind screamed that she needed a break.
But her body?
Her body ached for more.
And Justin could tell.