Heat

Katrina runs the room like she owns the air. She picks the one who knows his place. Michael Vegas steps forward, latex stretched tight over her hips, every move calculated to pull him in. She lets him feel the edge of her power before she lets him touch. When she turns and bends, it is an order, not an invitation. He sinks into her without mercy, her grip unyielding, her pace a slow grind that turns rough fast. She takes every inch on her terms, dominant, demanding, the latex creaking every time she slams back. Heat builds in every thrust. She keeps him right where she wants him, ass tight, back arched, mouth sharp when she orders him deeper. No hesitation, just sweat and tension and the raw slap of skin on latex.