I shatter in his arms, and even as my p***y clenches against his fingers, he doesn't stop. Instead, he takes them out, dropping me to my feet. Before I could understand what was happening, he pushed aside everything on his table to the ground and tossed me onto the table. Holding my legs open, he grips my jaw in one hand, ordering in a sexy baritone voice, "Look at me."
I have no choice.
His fingers move inside of me, slower this time, and he watches my expression, satisfaction in his.
He doesn't utter a word, just watching me writhe under his hold, a wanton need building inside of me.
"Please," I squirm. Begging him to let me go, to let me come, but he moves his fingers so slowly that my mind is blanking out. I need his c**k. I need him f*****g me with it, owning me with it, but he do
