Backstage with Jo

He had been counting down to this shoot since his holiday ended. The power cut changed everything. By ten that night the decision was clear—they'd reschedule Jo for another day. A small mercy. It bought him an entire day alone with her, and he planned to spend every hour of it exactly the way he wanted. She arrived in the morning, hair loose, skin bare under a silk robe that barely clung to her curves. They didn't speak much at first. Hands found skin. Her robe slipped open and he pulled her onto the sofa, mouth at her throat, fingers sliding between her thighs until she was wet enough to take him. She straddled him, guided him inside, rocked her hips slow and steady. He watched the way her breasts moved, the flush spreading across her chest. He flipped her beneath him, thrust deeper, harder, until her nails raked his back and she came with a sound that shot straight through him. They fucked on the floor after that, then standing against the wall. He ate her out on the kitchen counter, licked her open until she trembled, then bent her over the same surface and sank into her again. Cum ran down her thighs. Sweat slicked their skin. She came twice more before the light faded. He kept her there until neither of them could move.