Patricia's hands tore the sheets, knuckles bone-white, fabric ripping under her grip, her back arching impossibly, breasts swinging heavily, nipples scraping silk. Her ass thrust back, meeting his violence, a primal, desperate rhythm.
Her scream was a shattered litany, voice a raw, shredded ruin, "FUCK! YES! EROS! HARDER! FUCK ME HARDER!" Her plea a commanding prayer, echoing through the penthouse, a hymn to the god claiming her.
His hands were weapons of worship, sliding up her sweat-slicked spine, tracing every flexing muscle, gripping her hips, fingers sinking into bruises, layering new welts, yanking her back to meet his cock, doubling the impact, driving deeper, her cervix screaming.
He slapped her ass—CRACK—a gunshot sting, her scream a guttural roar, "YES! AGAIN PLEASE!" He obliged, his hand raining down on her ass, alternating cheeks, her ass a glowing red canvas, handprints over bruises, a masterpiece of pain and devotion.
