Her cries were getting thinner. High and breathless. Wet with panic.
Her thighs kicked — or tried to — one heel sliding clumsily across his back before falling limp again. She was shivering all over now. Her arms trembled uselessly, her fingers curled against the sheets like she didn't know what to do with them.
Her chest rose and dropped in frantic pulses, her free breast bouncing helplessly every time her frame jerked beneath him.
And her body… was losing the fight.
Her tight little hole clenched and fluttered around him, as if it couldn't decide whether to push him out or pull him in.
That tender ring was stretched halfway already — hugging him like a fist, twitching around the thick girth that was still sliding deeper. Every time he paused, she shook. Every time he moved, she whimpered.
"Nnffhh... h-holy—d-don't—" she gasped, the words barely forming. Her voice cracked with breath. "Not—no, not more..."
But he was only halfway.
