Cruxius didn't even slow down.
If anything, he drove deeper — one hand hooked under her left thigh, fingers biting into the soft meat of it, wrenching her leg upward, spreading her wider — and the other braced flat against the cool glass of the window as he pinned her there, her full weight sandwiched between two hundred pounds of him and the cold resistance of the pane.
Jenny's hands slapped forward against the window on instinct, palms squeaking across the glass as her whole body lurched with the next thrust.
Her heavy breasts mashed into the cold surface immediately — the contrast of it hitting her nipples like a slap — the dark, bitten peaks pressing flat and dragging with every rock of her body, leaving faint, brief fog-prints on the glass from the heat coming off her skin.
PAH!
"HIEK—!!"
The cold was everywhere.
