Golden girls

The suite feels hollow, all that velvet and marble begging to be used. Two bodies fix it fast. She climbs on him where the light hits the bed and sinks down slow, letting every inch stretch her open. Wet heat grips his cock. She rolls her hips until the slap of skin mixes with her low, broken sounds. His fingers dig into the flesh of her ass, guiding her faster, harder. Mouths crash together; tongues slide, teeth scrape. Saliva strings between their lips when they break apart to breathe. He sits up, takes one nipple in his mouth, sucks hard while her spine arches and her cunt pulses around him. Sweat gathers at the base of her throat. Every thrust knocks the breath out of her. She swears. He laughs once, low, then flips her onto her back and drives in deeper, the frame creaking like it might give. Her legs lock around his waist. She bites his shoulder and comes with a raw, shattering cry that finally fills every empty corner of the room.