Yang Chen's hands settled on the top of her head. His fingers slid gently through her midnight black hair at first, combing through the soft strands, then tightened into a firm grip.
He didn't push her down or force anything. He just guided her rhythm, letting her decide how fast or slow she wanted to go, while he watched her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes full of heat.
She worked carefully and methodically. Her lips slid down his thick length until the swollen head bumped the back of her throat, then she pulled back slowly, letting her tongue press flat against the underside the whole way.
Every time she reached the top, she swirled her tongue around the sensitive ridge of the head, flicking the slit lightly to catch the steady drops of precum that kept leaking out.
