Michael fucks like he looks.
I cannot tell where I begin and where he ends. My throat is sore from all the screaming, tears down my cheeks, and yet it keeps going.
He is deep inside me that the line between pain and pleasure stopped existing an hour ago. The only thing that I can hear is this broken whimper that takes me a while to recognize as mine.
Plus, the wet skin of the pelvis meeting the flesh of ass and the deep groans of Michael, as he pounds me from behind.
"Please, please, please," my arms give out, and as I flop forward on the cushions, Michael is there, his chest on my back as he goes even deeper, hitting it just right that my eyes roll at the back of my skull.
Nothing has ever felt like this before.
"Please, what baby? Speak clearly."
"Come, I need you to come, please," I cry out, drooling on the cushion below. "need it, please."
