Straight Guys Shouldn’t f**k Each Other (4)
Clarke was buried deep inside me, holding me down as he thrust with slow, grinding force.
Every time he pulled back and pushed in again, I could feel the stretch, the weight of him, the power in his legs. He wasn’t just fúcking me. He was claiming me.
“f**k, Clarke,” I groaned into the pillow. “You feel so damn good.”
He growled low into my ear, his breath hot. “You really are made for this. Look at how you take me. So tight. So fúcking perfect.”
My whole body was trembling. His c**k hit that spot again and again, dragging sounds out of me I’d never made before. I couldn’t stop moaning. I didn’t want to.
He grabbed my arms and pinned them down beside my head, pressing his chest against my back. “Your body knows what it wants. You’ve been ho
