The studio had become a pressure cooker of raw, unbridled carnality. The air was no longer just hot; it was electric, vibrating with the frantic, heavy rhythm of Mike's assault. He was no longer just a man; he was a force of pure, muscular momentum, a titan of flesh driving Haruka toward a total sensory collapse.
His thrusts had reached a fever pitch of violent, rhythmic intensity. He was no longer just lifting her; he was slamming her against his pelvis with a ferocity that sounded like a heartbeat echoing through the entire room.
THWACK! SLAP! SQUELCH! THWACK!
"AHHHHH! MIKE! PLEASE! IT'S TOO MUCH! YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK ME! AHHHHH!" Haruka's voice had transcended screaming; it was a primal, melodic wail of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
