Nadia's Point Of View
"Fuck…" The curse tore from my throat as he gave one massive, upward drive that hit the very back of my womb. My toes curled, my fingers locking into the fabric of his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white. My pleasure was building too fast, towering over my rage, over my fear, over everything I thought I knew about myself. It was a tidal wave I couldn't outrun, couldn't escape.
He didn't let up. His thrusts grew faster, harder, his body plowing into mine with a heavy, wet friction that filled the quiet room with obscene sounds. The sound of our bodies colliding was loud, explicit, stripping away every ounce of my dignity with each impact. Anyone passing in the corridor would know exactly what was happening in here.
"Jerry… I can't…" The words came out broken, desperate, barely coherent.
