As soon as the words left his lips, Zahir thrust forward, his rigid length colliding forcefully with Cesare’s inner walls.
The thick shaft dragged against every sensitive spot, sending jolts of sensation coursing through Cesare, causing his body to twist involuntarily.
Yet Zahir allowed no room for retreat.
His grip on Cesare’s thighs tightened, spreading his legs even wider, exposing him completely.
The entrance, swollen and flushed from their earlier fervor, clenched tightly around Zahir’s core, resisting and yielding in equal measure.
As Zahir eased back slightly, the supple flesh inside clung to him, a trail of warmth following his retreat and spilling out as if unwilling to let him go.
The vivid contrast of Cesare’s red, glistening insides against the pale silk of his skin painted an image Zahir found utterly captivating—a territory to be claimed, conquered, and cherished.
