Nala leaned in and bit down on my shoulder—teeth sinking in just enough to sting—muffling the moan that tried to tear out of her throat. Her whole body locked up: thighs clamping around my waist, nails digging into my back, pussy spasming violently around my cock in long, rolling waves.
She came hard—silently at first, then a choked, desperate whimper against my skin as the pleasure crashed through her. Her walls milked me in rhythmic pulses—tight, fluttering, relentless—pulling me deeper, dragging me right to the edge.
I couldn't hold back.
The first spurt hit deep—hot, thick—flooding her as I groaned into her hair. Then another, and another, rope after rope pumping into her while her pussy kept clenching, drawing it out, milking every drop. My hips jerked with each pulse; I could feel the warmth spreading inside her, the excess already starting to leak out around my shaft, dripping down her ass crack and onto the edge of the desk.
