His thrusts started deep and slow. My breath hitched every time he pulled back and slammed forward. My p***y clenched around him and my wetness dripped down my thighs. My nails scraped the floor as my body arched, begging, but he didn’t let me move.
His hand held my throat and his other hand gripped my hip so tight I knew he’d leave a bruise.
“You thought you could challenge me,” he murmured. “Slap me. Tempt me. And walk away in one piece?”
His pace picked up and each thrust hit harder than the last.
“You were wrong.”
I gasped, unable to stop the sounds pouring from my mouth. The slap of skin echoed in the room. My legs trembled around him and my p***y clenched down on his c**k without my permission.
“You’re close,” he said, reading me. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “I’m going to come.
