Ryan stepped up behind her. He didn't bother with a slow, teasing buildup. Her desperate, aching need had already prepped her entirely.
He didn't give her a second to adjust. He started moving, pulling back until the thick ridge of his cock nearly slipped free, then slamming his pelvis forward with bone-rattling force.
The heavy, wet slap of skin on skin exploded into the silence, an obscene, filthy percussion that drowned out the rain.
Diana sobbed, her fingers clawing frantically into the thick wool of the rug.
Every brutal impact drove her forward, but Ryan's iron grip on her hips anchored her violently in place.
"Look at me," Ryan commanded, snapping his gaze to the couch.
Zara didn't hesitate.
She pushed herself up from the velvet cushions, letting the cashmere throw fall completely away. She walked across the rug, her bare feet silent, her dark hair a wild, beautiful halo around her shoulders.
