The world had narrowed to a single point of connection, the frantic hammering of my heart against hers. I thought it was over. I thought I was empty, spent, a ruin held together by her arms. But Luna, my gentle revolutionary, had other plans.
She began to move again.
It wasn't a bounce. It wasn't a thrust. It was a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, a masterful rotation that ground me deeper inside her than I thought possible, the slick heat of her cunt enveloping every inch of me in a velvet vise.
The wet sounds of our joining filled the air—soft, obscene squelches as her arousal coated my shaft, dripping down to soak my balls and the sheets beneath us.
A soft, broken sound escaped my lips as her slick, hot walls clenched around me, a slow, rhythmic milking that tugged at my oversensitive cock, drawing out sparks of pleasure-pain from nerves I thought were numb.
