The morning after and she's still Starving 🔥 The fun Doesn't Stop

You wake up to the sound of her soft breathing --but the moment you shift, her hand's already sliding down your stomach. She's not done. Not even close. The sheets are still twisted from last night's chaos, your bodies still warm from the hours you spent wrapped around each other, but that spark? It never went out. She rolls on top of you, wearing nothing but that smug little smile, eyes locked on yours like she knows exactly what you need before you can even speak. “Again,” she whispers, voice rough and sinful. You can barely catch your breath before she's moving-- slow, teasing, mean. 💦 It's not romantic anymore. It's desperate. The kind of heat that makes you lose your mind all over again. Her thighs squeeze tighter, her rhythm's messier, needier, and the sounds? Yeah, this hotel room won't be quiet today. She's insatiable. You're hers. And the morning after is even filthier than the night before.