He pushes me against the HOTEL ROOM DOOR the moment it clicks shut. No small talk—just his HANDS gripping my WAIST, SKIRT hiked, BARE ASS exposed. “BEND OVER,” he hisses, VOICE TIGHT and full of NEED. I obey, leaning forward, BODY tingling. He drives in HARD, every THRUST urgent.<br><br>SKIN on SKIN, the low SLAP, the CREAK of the bed—nothing but RAW DESIRE. I moan, a shudder coursing through me as he CLAIMS each second, GRIP firm on my HIP. He finishes with a strained WHISPER of my name, WARMTH spilling inside. In that instant, we OWN the moment, the sheets marked by our PASSION.

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