I was still shaking.
His knot sat so deep inside me I could feel the shape of it with every breath—my stomach tight, my thighs soaked, the stretch relentless. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe without feeling the throb of his c**k pulsing, twitching, releasing again—still coming inside me in hot, thick bursts that made my toes curl and my brain go blank.
He held me caged against him, massive arms wrapped around my waist like he couldn’t stand to let go. His face was buried in my throat, mouth open, panting against my skin like he was dying and I was the only thing keeping him alive.
“I can’t stop,” he whispered. “I should, but I can’t—f**k—you feel too good. You’re made for this. Made for me.”
I whimpered, the fullness overwhelming.
His hips shifted, grinding the knot deeper.
I screa
