"We're not done," he said. His voice was rougher now, the careful control fraying at the edges in a way that made heat flood through me all over again despite the fact that my body felt like it had already been thoroughly wrung out.
I gripped the sheets and waited.
He drove back in from behind in one deep, claiming stroke that went further than anything had reached before and I sobbed into his pillow with absolutely no restraint whatsoever.
Everything was different from this angle.
Deeper. More direct. More overwhelming. He filled me so completely from behind that I felt every single one of the five piercings in an entirely new way — each barbell dragging along my walls with every forward stroke, hitting places that sent white sparks firing behind my eyes and turned my thoughts into co
