The brutal rhythm was no longer just a sound; it was the very fabric of her existence. Each powerful thrust into her ass sent a seismic shockwave of pleasure that obliterated thought, memory, and self.
There was no Alexi. There was no past, no future. There was only the blinding, ecstatic present, defined by the thick, punishing presence of Jax's cock claiming her most forbidden depths.
He was a force of nature, a god of destruction and pleasure, and she was the altar upon which he sacrificed his lust.
His grip on her waist was like iron, his fingers digging into her flesh with bruising force as he pulled her back to meet his every forward slam. The wet, slapping sound of his hips against her ass was the anthem of her ruin, a beat her own frantic heart was forced to follow.
Her moans were no longer coherent words but a constant, high-pitched keen of mindless bliss.
