He's perfect like this—completely undone, utterly mine.
I lean down, my lips brushing against his ear as I murmur, "You feel that? How well you take me?" My voice is rough, edged with the primal satisfaction of seeing him like this—so vulnerable, so open.
Noelle's response is nothing more than a strangled cry, his hands clutching at the sheets as I pound into him, each thrust deliberate and unrelenting. His entire body moves with me now, his hips rising to meet my rhythm, desperate for more, for everything I'm giving him.
I feel him tighten around me, his body responding to the roughness with an eagerness that drives me wild. Each gasp, each moan, fuels the fire inside me. My control slips further with each passing second until I'm no longer thrusting for him—I'm chasing my own release, hard and fast, driving into him with reckless abandon.
