Brooks Adams grips Savage Moore’s hips, his tattoos glinting under the light as he slams into him from behind, the wooden table’s rough edge biting into Savage’s stomach. Savage’s fingers dig into the chair’s edge, his cock already slick with Brooks’ mouth, the blond’s lips stretched tight around the thick shaft as he works it with slow, deliberate strokes. The air hums with the wet sound of Brooks’ tongue tracing Savage’s hole before his fingers push inside, then the chair creaks as Brooks flips him over, driving deep without pause.
