She tried desperately to close her legs—but his frame was far too heavy to move. Her whole body gave a single, violent jerk, then sagged helplessly into the mattress again.
Utterly helpless.
The only sound in the quiet room was her frantic breathing and the wet, agonizingly slow rhythm of his strokes against his own cock.
Shlk… shlk…
She could hear it so clearly now.
Each deliberate motion.
Each agonizing second of him sliding slickly between his own rough fingers, preparing himself.
Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her suspended thighs trembled like leaves. Her moans started leaking past her lips again—soft, breathy, deeply confused by her own body's surging, inappropriate heat.
Then she finally felt it.
His fingers.
