He thrusted into me relentlessly, a powerful rhythm that shook me to my core. One of his hands tangled firmly in my hair, exerting delicious pressure that amplified the sensations. His teeth grazed along the sensitive skin of my neck, leaving a trail of electric anticipation in their wake. With possessive determination, he marked his territory, a tangible reminder of our shared primal connection.
The force of his thrusts was both unyielding and controlled, an intoxicating blend that left me craving more. There was no gentleness in his actions, but I knew he had yet to unveil the full extent of his prowess. The hand that gripped my hair gradually travelled downward, igniting a frenzy of anticipation. When his skilled fingers found my sensitive bud, my sanity teetered on the edge, and I was lost to the depths of pleasure. A guttural moan escaped my lips, desperate gasps for air punctuating each exhilarating stroke and tantalizing circle he drew upon my pulsating clit.
