He slowed inside her.
The brutal rhythm that had been hammering her against the pond edge eased into a deep, grinding roll. His thick cock stirred the walls of her womb with slow, deliberate circles that made her aware of every vein, every ridge, every inch of his impossible heat.
Meihua gasped.
Her cheek was still pressed against the cold stone. Her enormous tits flattened beneath her. Her thick thighs trembled in the dark water. She felt the shift immediately. The change from destruction to something that was somehow worse because it made her feel everything.
"Why," she breathed.
Her voice came out wrecked. Raw. The throat of a woman who had been screaming for what felt like hours. "Why are you slowing —"
"Because you stopped screaming," he said.
His hand released her pinned wrists. The large palm moved to her hair, gathering the dark strands, pulling her head back gently until her neck arched and her face turned toward the moon.
She looked at him.
