Aria stood outside the door, one hand still pressed against the wood.
Another deep, rough moan came from inside. It was unmistakably Deucalion’s.
“Deucalion!” she called.
No answer. She banged harder with both fists. “Deucalion, open this door!”
Inside the room the rhythm never slowed.
Celine was still riding him hard. Every time she sank down onto his thick d**k, he thrust up to meet her. The wet sound of his c**k sliding in and out of her p***y filled the air. Skin slapped against skin. The bed creaked steadily under their weight.
Aria’s voice reached them through the thick door.
Celine heard it clearly but did not stop.
Instead she leaned forward, planted both hands on Deucalion’s broad chest, and ground her hips in slower, deeper circles. The new angle made the head of his d**k
