She clung to him tighter—arms locked around his neck like iron bands, nails raking deep, stinging red furrows down his shoulders through the shredded shirt—as her hips began to move in earnest.
Not the frantic, slamming ride she'd beg for in minutes.
Just deep, deliberate rolls: slow, filthy circles that stirred his twelve-inch dragon inside her overstuffed cunt like she was trying to grind every thick, pulsing vein permanently into her sensitive, rippling walls forever.
Each roll dragged her swollen clit along the coarse, dark hair at his base—the fat, pearl-hard nub scraping rough, electric friction that made her thighs quake violently and her breath hitch into sharp, broken cries.
Her inner lips clung desperately to his shaft—stretching paper-thin and glossy-red on the up-roll, turning almost translucent at the edges where the skin pulled taut over his brutal girth, veins scraping fire along her ridges—then sucking back in with a loud, wet schlick on the down-roll.
