He walked in knowing I’d break him… and still, he wanted it. The second my thighs lock around his throat, he feels it—the crushing power, the heat of my muscles pulsing against his skin. His gasps turn ragged as I grind him deeper into my headscissor, my sweat dripping onto his face. My fists slam into his abs, each gutpunch forcing a moan that’s half agony, half hunger. He writhes, but the oil makes him slide helplessly beneath me, every movement just exposing him more. I lean closer, my body dominating his, whispering that he’s mine. He thought this was a fight… but all he can do now is take my punishment and crave more.
