The doorbell rang through the room, cutting right through the heavy smell of sweat and that fancy citrus oil Zayela always rubbed on her skin. Nash stopped moving, his cock shoved all the way inside her, feeling her tight wetness squeezing him in slow, mean little pulses.
"Oh shit," Nash hissed, his fingers digging into her hips. "Zayela, get off, right now..."
Zayela laughed, this deep, throaty sound that made his dick twitch inside her. She rolled her hips in a slow circle, grinding down on him until his vision kinda blurred.
"Nope," she said, popping the word like it was a joke. "Rules are rules, baby."
Her fingers trailed down his chest, nails scratching just hard enough to sting, and Nash could smell her, sweet and salty, mixed with the oil, driving him crazy.
From the front door, a male voice yelled, bored as hell.
"Delivery for N.B. Gotta sign for it."
There was a loud thump as a box hit the floor.
