THEA
It’s too much.
Too deep.
Too perfect.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust. Doesn’t slow. Doesn’t ask.
Just takes.
His c**k stretches me wide, fills every inch, thick and pulsing with every throb of blood. The first thrust knocks the air from my lungs. The second steals my voice. By the third, I’m trembling—hips pinned to the desk, legs splayed, body wide open and helpless under his control.
He f***s me like he owns me.
Like he’s been starved for me.
Like he deserves this—deserves to use me until there’s nothing left but the echo of his name on my tongue.
Each stroke is punishing. Slick. Precise.
The heavy drag of him pulls against my inner walls, forcing them to mold around his thickness. Every ridge, every vein, every relentless inch makes me more raw, more delirious.
The d
