normal. It’s too much. But it’s not. And Koen knows it. “Take it.” He shoves deeper. “Be good and take my knot.” “I—I don’t—” “You do. You were made for it. How could I ever think of fucking anyone else, when you take it so well?” His cock starts jerking, and he holds me tighter, groaning against my gland something about his “perfect mate” and her “perfect, tight cunt” that almost sounds like poetry, and his orgasm lasts for…for minutes, I think. “That’s it,” he grits out. “That’s where my come goes.”
