Marissa's thighs shook, her stomach tightened, and her toes curled until her foot cramped.
Ross felt every spasm, felt her body milking him, and he captured her gasp with his lips as he kissed her again—slow, devouring, claiming.
He held her pinned beneath him, buried to the hilt, letting her ride out every shudder and quake.
Marissa's arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer, her breath hot and broken against his ear as she whispered a shaky, needy moan that sent heat straight down Ross's spine.
They continued kissing thereafter.
The kiss was a frantic, breathless tangle, a prelude to the raw, unrestrained passion that consumed them.
Ross did not stop; his rhythm was a relentless, driving force, each thrust a deliberate, powerful stroke that buried him deep within Marissa's cunt.
He moved with the untamed ferocity of a wild animal, all primal instinct and consuming need, yet there was a devastating artistry to the way he handled her body.
