He slams into me.
I scream.
Four years of silent orgasms, controlled breathing, careful restraint – gone in an instant. Marcus pounds into me with all the force he’s been holding back, all the desperation he’s been hiding, and I’m screaming.
"f**k – yes – yes – ”
“Quiet – ” He doesn’t slow down. “Your mother – ”
“I don’t care about my mother!” I claw at his back, pull him deeper. “I care about your c**k – finally – f*****g me – properly – ”
He loses whatever control remains.
He f***s me like a man possessed. Like every restrained, careful, gentle thrust of the past four years was a lie he was telling himself. His hips slam against mine, his c**k driving so deep I feel it in my stomach, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
“You knew,” he pants. “The whole – f*****g – ti
