44 Deeper scenes are tagged redhead, among them "The Critique", "Amenity" and "The Cure For Loneliness". Maitland Ward is in 21 of them, far ahead of Isiah Maxwell (5) and Alex Jones (4). The oldest on file is "The Plumber", 2018. It travels with milf: 20+ of these scenes carry that tag too, well above average.
She flips another page and rolls her eyes at his manuscript. He watches her from the doorway, jaw tight. She thinks he missed the curl of her lip, but he caught it. He walks over, grabs her wrist, and pins it to the table. "You skimmed the last chapter," he says low. "Read it again." She opens her mouth to argue and he pushes her down to her knees instead. The pages flutter to the floor. She reaches for his belt, fingers already working fast. He fists her hair and feeds her every inch until her throat tightens around him. She gags once, twice, but keeps going. Spit slides down her chin while his hips rock slow and steady. When he pulls out she gasps for air, lips swollen, eyes wet. He hauls her up, spins her around, and bends her over the desk. The wood creaks under her palms. He shoves her skirt up, yanks her panties aside, and sinks in deep from behind. Her moan cracks loud in the quiet room. He grips her hips hard enough to bruise and drives into her, each thrust knocking the breath out of her lungs. She claws at the scattered pages, half-reading, half-sobbing his name. He leans over her back, teeth at her ear. "Finish the chapter," he growls. She tries, voice shaking, words breaking every time he slams in. He reaches around, fingers working her clit until her legs tremble. She comes hard, body locking tight around him. He pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and paints her face with hot streaks across her flushed skin. Cum drips onto the open manuscript. She stays bent over the desk, breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded. He tucks himself away, eyes still on her ruined lipstick. "Now tell me what you really think," he says.
She flips another page and rolls her eyes at his manuscript. He watches her from the doorway, jaw tight. She thinks he missed the curl of her lip, but he caught it. He walks over, grabs her wrist, and pins it to the table. "You skimmed the last chapter," he says low. "Read it again." She opens her mouth to argue and he pushes her down to her knees instead. The pages flutter to the floor. She reaches for his belt, fingers already working fast. He fists her hair and feeds her every inch until her throat tightens around him. She gags once, twice, but keeps going. Spit slides down her chin while his hips rock slow and steady. When he pulls out she gasps for air, lips swollen, eyes wet. He hauls her up, spins her around, and bends her over the desk. The wood creaks under her palms. He shoves her skirt up, yanks her panties aside, and sinks in deep from behind. Her moan cracks loud in the quiet room. He grips her hips hard enough to bruise and drives into her, each thrust knocking the breath out of her lungs. She claws at the scattered pages, half-reading, half-sobbing his name. He leans over her back, teeth at her ear. "Finish the chapter," he growls. She tries, voice shaking, words breaking every time he slams in. He reaches around, fingers working her clit until her legs tremble. She comes hard, body locking tight around him. He pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and paints her face with hot streaks across her flushed skin. Cum drips onto the open manuscript. She stays bent over the desk, breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded. He tucks himself away, eyes still on her ruined lipstick. "Now tell me what you really think," he says.