Page 85 of Polly

He stayed lodged in her and pressed her down so she was bent over the counter. He slid his hands under her shirt, up her back. He rubbed them along her back and over her ass. Then he slapped her ass cheek, hard enough it would leave a red handprint. The momentum made her shift along his length and she moaned. He stroked where he slapped, soothing it.

Flynn began moving slowly in and out of her, and he built up the thrusts until he pounded her. His hands circled her hips and helped move their hips together.

“Yes, harder,” she panted.

He drilled into her. The cabinets lining the counter pounded with their motions. He slipped a hand around her and stroked her clit.

She cried out loudly. “Oh fuck, Flynn. I’m going to come. Keep going.”

She grew slicker as he pounded her, his fingers expertly playing her clit like a guitar. She felt her inner walls begin to flutter around him. Her release let go hard and she moaned. Her pussy clenched him.

Flynn groaned and jerked. His warmth flooded inside her. He leaned his body over her back and rested against hee, still lodged in her.

“That gets better every time,” he panted.

Polly laughed. “I’m glad to hear you say that. We have more counters to christen.”

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