Joanna Fists Taurus

I laid out plans—expensive dinner, loud club, whatever she wanted. Taurus just smiled and said no. She wanted the night flat on her back with me. Clothes came off fast, skin met skin under the city lights that leaked through the blinds. I kissed down the length of her throat, bit gently at the hollow, then lower until her hips lifted off the sheets and she hissed my name like it hurt in the best way. She wrapped her legs around my waist, heels pressing into me, and we moved together—slow and grinding at first, then sharper, tighter, wetter. The room was all heat and breath and low sounds. Each thrust made her catch on a moan, fingers digging in deep. She came hard around me, the kind of shudder you feel in your own spine, and I didn’t hold back long after. The mess between us cooled on our stomachs while we lay there laughing like idiots who’d stayed in bed on purpose.