Lyra's eyes locked on Jax the second the door hissed open. Sharp as tacks under that sweet grandma smile.
She didn't miss a beat—mid-thrust on the two cocks stuffing her from behind, her hands still jerking the other pair like faulty engine parts. "Back so soon, dear boy? With my bag?" Her voice dripped pure honey, warm and inviting, like she was offering fresh-baked cookies.
But the four men in the corner? They huddled like scared puppies after a thunderstorm. Naked. Sweaty. One clutched his pants like it was his last shred of dignity.
Jax stepped in anyway, ignoring the wild scene slapping him in the face. Handed over the bag. "Here, ma'am. It slipped my mind completely." His eyes darted quick—room reeked of sweat and something desperate.
And there: Lyra's floral skirt hiked just enough. No panties in sight. Her pussy and ass? Stuffed full. Two cocks buried deep, pumping slow like old bicycles with flat tires.
Schlick. Schlick.
