Layla stirred awake in sleep to feel sore down there. Just when she was about to move her legs, she gasped. Michael was still inside her, and surprisingly, he was hard. Wasn't six rounds of passionate love-making enough for him? A smile tugged at her lips, and instead of resisting, she snuggled close to him.
She winced when Michael tried to move a little, and her little whimper woke him up—he had been asleep only moments ago. The first thing he did was capture her lips, and thankfully, this time the kiss wasn't hungry. It was soothing, one that made her feel cherished and nurtured.
"Are you okay?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, to which Layla nodded her head meekly; her cheeks flushed, feeling his manhood still hard and twitching inside her.
She remembered well her shameless, lewd moans. It felt like a sin how much she enjoyed herself when Michael was giving it to her. Waves and waves of pleasure had engulfed her senses, and she had come undone.
