Thorne's small, almost frantic thrusts send jolts of pleasure through Noelle, the movement accentuating just how deep he is, his cock head still pressing inside Noelle's womb. Noelle squirms, overwhelmed by the sensation. His body feels oversensitive, every nerve raw and exposed, but there's no denying the way his body reacts to each thrust—how the need, the desire, builds all over again despite the exhaustion.
Noelle whimpers, pressing his face into the pillow as his fingers clutch at the sheets for something—anything—to ground him. But Thorne isn't letting up. The tight hold of the knot doesn't allow much movement, yet somehow, Thorne manages to keep that maddening rhythm. Noelle feels like he's being unraveled, piece by piece, by every shallow thrust.
"Thorne," he gasps, his voice hoarse from screaming earlier, his mind torn between pleasure and the urge to rest. But his body doesn't listen, responding to every motion of Thorne's hips with renewed hunger.
