Phei finally tore his mouth from Cassiopeia's dripping, spasming cunt with a loud, wet pop that echoed in the quiet room.
Cassiopeia was still a trembling wreck—her legs kicking weakly in the air, face buried sideways in the sheets, mouth stretched wide in broken, endless sobs. Her hands clawed blindly backward, fingers twisting deep into his hair, yanking hard like she could drag him back inside her soul if he tried to leave.
He didn't leave.
He rose behind her with his hands still clamping around her narrow waist like steel vices, and flipped her in one brutal, fluid twist.
She spun mid-air—her massive, heavy breasts bouncing heavily—before crashing face-up onto the mattress.
Phei dropped back against the headboard, dragging her straight onto his lap in the position he had been craving since the moment she walked through the door: straddling him face-to-face, her knees sinking deep into the sheets on either side of his hips, long legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.
