Amone Bane kneels over Dakota Lovell’s hips, his tattooed arms gripping the couch as he drives into him with rough, deep strokes while Lovell’s fingers dig into the cushions. The blond’s hole clenches around him as Bane’s jaw tightens, his breath ragged over the slick, stretched flesh. One hand slams into the seatback as Lovell’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent cry.
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