Forbidden Collection
When Dennis’s face filled the screen, his crooked smile made her stomach flip.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, voice low and already rough with want.
“Hey yourself,” Zina replied, biting her lower lip the way she knew drove him crazy. She was wearing nothing but a thin camisole and panties, the fabric clinging to her skin because she was already warm just from thinking about this.
Dennis leaned back, and the camera dipped lower. He was shirtless, boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock—thick, hard, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. Zina’s breath caught.