Your body jerks when I press in again—slow and full and deep. I feel the aftershocks still rippling through you, feel how wet and tight and spent you are.
But I don’t stop.
“You said you could take it,” I growl, leaning over you, pinning you with my hips, my hand, my voice. “Said you wanted it all.”
You moan, broken and dazed, and I grin as I start to move again—slick and hot, dragging a sound from your throat that doesn’t even have words anymore.
I can feel how sensitive you are, how every thrust makes your legs twitch and your walls flutter. But I want more. I want to fuck you through the overstimulation, through the exhaustion, until your body forgets where it ends and I begin.
“That’s it. You’re gonna take every drop,” I whisper, close to your ear. “Gonna keep me inside you. Gonna stay full for me, messy and used and mine.”
And when I cum deep inside, when your back arches and you sob through another sudden orgasm you didn’t expect, I don’t let go. Not yet.
“Again,” I say, pushing in once more. “You’re not done. Not until I say so.”
