Nell Harris clawed Dylan Young's shoulder with both hands, her fingernails almost digging into his flesh, her legs already taut.
She bit her lips, struggling hard not to let out that kind of shameful sound.
At this moment, Nell felt indignant. At this point, could he just stop with the chatter?
She opened her mouth and bit hard on Dylan's shoulder, bastard...
If only she had never trusted him so much, if only...
If only she... would not always refuse him.
She heard Dylan's low chuckle in her ear, and then, she had no chance to think about anything else.
Nell felt like a small boat on the ocean, vast sea and surging waves, Dylan's initial motions were gentle, but before she could adapt, he suddenly intensified, becoming fierce, making her unable to follow his pace, seeming as if she was being tossed up only to be pulled back by him at any moment.
