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Ciro shifts to his knees, sitting back on his heels as he continues to massage my thighs, dragging me closer to him. I feel his stiffness brush against my skin, still drenched in me.

When he plays at my entrance, I expect him to rush in, to resume his mind-altering orgasmic assault. But he waits, seating the throbbing head of his dick just inside my lips.

Then the bastard has the gall to slip it in, out. Just the head.

Over and again.

Soon, my thighs are trembling again. This is worse than the electroshock!

The edging does the unthinkable. It stacks up layer after layer of pleasure within me, building my arousal until I am writhing on the lushious carpet, my skin tingling from head to toe.

I will not last this way either, but it will take much, much longer.

Excruciatingly long.

“Fucking hell…”

“I love it when you growl at me,” Ciro rumbles, his own words gravel in his throat.

My mind is mush. Devastated by an overdose of ecstasy. All I can moan as I start to quiver is, “You can’t…I can’t…”

I beg him. I need him.

Every cell in my body wants another climax before he finishes. Because I am selfish. And he has spoiled me. And I cannot bear to wait any longer.

After this, there’s no going back. We are one, and I never want anything again. I never want food or drink or air if it’s not his, if it’s not him.

The old me would wonder who I am becoming.

Shakal has set me free from such thoughts.

He rolls to the floor, setting me on top again, guiding himself into my tender, drenched middle.

“Now, make yourself come again,” he orders me, and I smile sumptuously, bouncing down, slamming down onto his cock. His eyes flare, his shocked grin telling me exactly what he wants.

I will obey. But he will come with me.

He does not stand a chance.

Bumping up and down, I glide along every inch of him, all the way out, all the way in, giving it everything I have. He is as deep as he can possibly be, enveloped within me, his skin glistening with my thick, velvety lust.

My clit skims against his abdomen, adding to my ascent toward the highest summit. Leaning into it, I drop down over him, biting his ear and pumping along his length with tight, slick flexes of my ass. Soon, he is gasping.

Even more when I breathe into his ear, moaning my desire.

“I need you to come, my love. Deep inside me…”

“Fuuu—”

His hands clap down on my cheeks, gripping with pure longing. Desperation. His ass leaves the floor, lifting us both up. Tilting me forward, he drags himself out, spearing into me once. Then again. Faster. Faster.

Soon, the clapping of my ass against his thighs is a drumbeat, only drowned out by our nearly incessant cries. The keening storm in my head reaches a fever pitch, rapture only moments away.

I clutch the carpet, his arms, anything I can to hang on as he hits his stride, hammering into my cluster of nerves every single time with brain melting swiftness and pressure.

It’s fucking insane the way he makes me feel, physically, mentally. Emotionally.

My walls lock around him, gushing forth more of my need for him, dripping down my legs. We are both slick with our disastrous endeavor.