Cindy's breathing quickens as he lunges deeper into her, his pelvic thrusts echoing the rhythm of her desperate drags on the cigarette. She moans, the smoke escaping in delicate whispers around them. Her nails dig into his shoulders, urging him on, while her hips grind against his pelvis in a primal dance of lust and need. Their bodies are flushed with heat, the friction burning like the embers of their passions. The cigarette, a symbol of her unapologetic pleasure, glows between her fingers as she surrenders to the powerful surge of emotion coursing through her. This is what she was made for—to be owned, to be claimed, to be fucked while dragging on a cigarette.
