muscles to make sure that there is no give. “Fuck,” Koen swears, and he’s coming again, a short burst that has him driving his hips up into me, and he mumbles into me that “there’s no need,” that he’s “already fucking gone” over me, that I’m “so good,” it’s going to “destroy” him. So I do it again, just to watch the way the pleasure transforms his face, the tendons of his strong neck in relief as he arches back, his muscles tensing and releasing. And once more, because he’s losing his mind, and I love it.
