ANGEL
He started to move.
He was not gentle. Not careful. He f****d me like he was trying to break the couch. Like he was trying to break me. Like every week of restraint was a wave and they were all crashing at once. His hips slammed against my ass with a force that drove me forward into the cushions and his hands dragged me back onto him with each thrust.
The sounds filling the room were obscene. Wet. Raw. Skin meeting skin. My moans were muffled by the cushion. His grunts low and animal behind me.
I could feel everything. Every thrust pushing deep, pressing against my cervix, sending jolts of sharp-sweet sensation up my spine. I could feel how wet I was — drenched, dripping, his c**k sliding in and out of me with a slick friction that made filthy sounds with every stroke. I could fe
