By the time the eighth hour approached, Bella was an absolute, breathtaking mess—completely undone and gloriously ruined.
Thick streams and splatters of Ross's cum coated her from head to toe: pearly ropes drying in her tangled hair; glistening trails across her flushed cheeks and swollen lips; heavy drips sliding down the curves of her enormous breasts and pooling in the hollow of her throat; smeared across her belly and hips; leaking in slow rivulets from her well-fucked pussy and ass; even streaking the backs of her thighs and the soles of her feet from positions where he'd pulled out at the last second to mark her possessively.
Her skin bore the beautiful evidence of their marathon: dark love bites blooming on her neck, breasts, and inner thighs; pink handprints on her ass from countless spanks; faint red lines from nails and teeth; a sheen of sweat that made her glow like something divine and debauched all at once.
