But the thought died. Smothered by the heat of my cock against her ass, by the oil still sensitizing her nerves, by the chemical and emotional cocktail that had turned her resistance to tissue paper.
I slammed.
The head popped past the ring of muscle, and Elira screamed — a raw, throat-shredding sound that echoed off the study walls. Her body convulsed, her back arching, her hands clawing the desk, her belly pressing hard against the edge. One hand flew to her stomach, holding it, supporting it, cradling the child within as though protecting it from the impact of the cock driving into her ass.
"AAAANGH — LORD — IT HURTS—!!"
I gripped her hips. Pulled back. Slammed again. Two inches. Three. The tightness was extraordinary — her anal clenching around me with the desperate grip of a muscle being forced past its limit, the walls pulling and sucking at my shaft with a heat that bordered on pain.
'He is in my — my — no one has ever — it is tearing — I cannot—'
