Full impalement. Root-deep. Her weight drove her down, gravity assisting, every inch of his cock buried in her cunt. Her body arched. Her heavy tits lifted toward the ceiling. Her back bowed.
He sucked.
His mouth found her boob — the nearest one, the left, the heavy pale flesh. He sucked her nipple while she sat impaled on his cock. The most intimate, most possessive thing a man could do — hold a woman on his cock and drink from her tit at the same time.
He fucked.
Up and down. His hands on her hips, lifting her, dropping her. Using her body like a toy. She was a passenger in her own fucking — her thick, heavy Ktorian frame moved by his hands like a ragdoll.
"You'll become addicted to this soon enough," he said against her nipple.
The words were warm. Intimate. The vibration of his voice traveled through her breast into her chest. The prediction of a man who had broken enough women to know the pattern by heart.
She moaned.
