He didn’t give me a second to recover.
Still buried deep inside me, he shifted his weight, pulled one of my legs over his shoulder, and started moving again slow, brutal thrusts that made my eyes roll back.
“F-f**k. . .” I gasped, hands scrambling for something to hold on to.
His palm wrapped around my throat.
“I said round two,” he growled into my mouth. “I meant I’m not stopping until you can’t f*****g walk.”
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
He was in deep hitting that spot that made me cry out, over and over. The pressure in my belly coiled tight again, even though I swore I had nothing left to give.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
His hips clapped against my ass, harder now, desperate and rough. The couch creaked beneath us, but it didn’t matter we weren’t stopping. Not until he was done.
