“f**k, Luna… look at you,” he groaned, voice thick with pride. “My perfect mate, squirting all over my tongue on camera. So f*****g hot.”
He stood slowly, still fully dressed while I was bare and trembling, and pulled me into a deep, messy kiss that tasted like me. His hard c**k pressed against my stomach.
Raphael pulled back from the kiss, his lips shiny with my squirt, eyes burning gold like the villain who just won the whole damn movie.
I was still naked, trembling against the oak, thighs slick and shaking, p***y still pulsing from the insane orgasm he’d ripped out of me. The phone lay on his jacket nearby, screen dark now — but that cocky smirk on his face told me the night was nowhere near over.
He reached down, grabbed the phone again, and tapped the screen. That red recording
