Sloane’s POV
He f***s me missionary like a man who’s been caging something for a year and just ripped the door off the hinges.
My legs are hooked over his shoulders and my knees are pressed toward my ears and every thrust drives him so deep that I feel the impact behind my navel.
The bed is slamming against the wall — the wall my mother is sleeping on the other side of — and the rhythmic thud of the headboard is loud enough that I should be terrified but his c**k is hitting a spot that’s making rational thought physically impossible.
He grips my jaw with one hand and forces my mouth open. Not gently. His fingers dig into my cheeks and my lips part and he leans down and kisses me with my mouth held wide.
His tongue pushes all the way in, licking across mine, and spit pools between our
