Chris
My hands griped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as I thrust deeper inside her. Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"Chris," she gasps, her voice trembling with urgency. "Harder." I obey without hesitation, pounding into her with renewed vigor. The table beneath us creaks under the strain, a rhythmic accompaniment to our frantic movements. Her breasts bounce with each impact, nipples brushing against my chest, teasing and taunting me.
"Shayla," I growl, nipping at her earlobe. "You feel so fucking good." Her legs lock around my waist, pulling me even closer.
"Don't stop," she whispers, her breath hot against my neck. "I need you."
Need.
