Not yet. Ross wanted to wring every last orgasm from her first.
Wanted to feel her shatter around him again and again until she was nothing but a trembling, cock-drunk mess beneath him.
He reached beneath her, fingers finding her swollen clit—rubbing fast, merciless circles in time with his thrusts.
Anita convulsed—back bowing so sharply her shoulders left the cushion—another shattering climax ripping through her.
Her pussy spasmed violently, squirting hard this time, soaking his hand, his thighs, the leather in a hot flood.
Ross groaned—low, guttural—feeling her milk him relentlessly.
"Fuck—Anita—"
He slammed in one final time—burying himself to the hilt—and held there, letting her ride the peak while his cock throbbed deep inside her.
He wasn't done.
Not even close.
But for now, he let her shake and whimper beneath him—pussy still fluttering around every inch of him—knowing she'd beg for more the second she could form words again.
"Ahhhhhh…"
"Ohhhhhh… fuck…"
