"My c**k hurting you, honey?"
"A little." Her p***y flexes around me and I see stars. "Mostly it feels good."
Don't come. Don't come. I'm breathing hard against her mouth like a maniac, my hips giving firm mini pumps to stretch her out, get her used to me. "That's a good girl," I whisper in between kisses. "That's my sweet pumpkin."
There's a flicker of burgeoning wickedness in her eyes and she moans, her hands trailing down and up my back, spearing into my hair—and God almighty, she begins to rock her hips, looking up at me eagerly, as if seeking approval. "Daddy likes that," I grit out. "Don't stop."
"I won't," she says, her breath hitching, our bodies finding a rhythm now.
One that makes her nails dig into my back, her eyes losing focus. f**k yes.
I'm getting ready to drop my weig
