Hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm—fast, deep, unyielding—each stroke dragging every veined inch along her sensitive walls, the flared crown kissing her cervix again and again until she sobbed with overstimulation.
Her pussy gaped briefly on every withdrawal—pink inner flesh visible, fluttering open—before swallowing him whole on the next plunge, cream frothing thick and white at the base, bubbling out with every brutal hilt.
She pushed back to meet him—graceful even in ruin—hips rolling in perfect counter-rhythm, ass bouncing against his pelvis, back arching in elegant bows that let him sink even deeper. One hand braced on the desk; the other reached back to grip his thigh, nails digging in, urging him on.
Phei leaned over her—chest to her back, one arm banding around her waist to hold her steady, the other sliding up to collar her throat—not choking, just possessive—thumb stroking the frantic pulse there while he railed her without mercy.
