"I...I can't feel my legs..." I panted, voice wrecked, throat raw, hips still twitching from the aftershock. I ran a trembling hand through my hair, trying to steady myself, still pinned between the mirror and his chest—his c*m slowly dripping out of me, thick and warm between my thighs.
Ryder didn't answer right away.
He just looked at me.
Smirking. Possessive. Still hard.
His c**k—still f*****g hard.
God help me.
He pulled out slow, and I whimpered at the loss, at how empty I suddenly felt, how my walls clenched down around nothing.
Then he dropped me.
Not rough—no. But deliberate.
I collapsed to my knees with a weak cry, my thighs quivering, muscles useless and slick with our mess. I barely had time to catch myself on my palms before his hand fisted in my ha
