Sol kept pumping into her with steady, powerful strokes, holding her up as if she weighed nothing.
Zeyra clung to his neck and took every deep, relentless thrust.
The wet heat of her cunt, the repeated heavy pressure against her cervix, the thick scent of sex, and the unbroken filthy sounds of their bodies filled everything.
There was no room left for anything else.
He adjusted his grip, lifted her an inch higher and drove up into her harder. Each upward thrust lifted her slightly before gravity pulled her back down onto the full length of his cock.
The angle hit her sweet spot. The head of him knocked firmly against that soft inner barrier protecting the womb every single time, sending deep, overwhelming pulses through her body.
Zeyra's breath broke against the side of his neck in short, shattered bursts. Her arms stayed locked around him. Her legs trembled over his shoulders but refused to let go.
"Still so deep," she managed, voice raw. "Every time you— ah—"
