Lida

In the house near new-orleans, the bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint amber hue of a side lamp. Lida straddled Marcus, her breath already shallow from the heat building between them—but her eyes were somewhere else, staring past him, into the distance, as if seeking meaning in the shadows dancing on the wall. Marcus’s hands roamed her hips, greedy and confident. “Damn,” he whispered, fingers digging into her waist. “You’re not like her...” Lida shifted her weight slowly, deliberately moving up and down on his dick, coaxing both pleasure and confession. Her lips parted slightly, not in a moan—but in anticipation. Say it, she thought. Give me the proof. “She’s so clingy,” Marcus muttered under his breath, eyes half-lidded as his head fell back into the pillows. “Always calling,