The sound of his name, torn from her lips in a ragged, desperate cry of pleasure, was the sweetest music Jax had ever heard.
It was a symphony of submission, a testament to the raw, primal power he held over her. He didn't stop his slow, torturous advance.
He savored every moment, every inch of her tight, wet heat as it yielded to his unyielding pressure.
Astra was a mess of writhing, trembling pleasure.
Her hands, which had been gripping his hair, now flew to his shoulders, her nails digging into the hard, muscular flesh as she tried to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation.
Her body was no longer her own; it was a vessel for his desire, a canvas for his pleasure, and she was being stretched, filled, and remolded into the perfect shape for him alone.
He pushed deeper, the thick, hard head of his cock forcing its way past every tight, restrictive ring of muscle.
