His face is drawn in harsh lines. He’s clearly in pain, but he tightens his punishing grip, squeezing until his knuckles blanch white. Despite his stranglehold, milky stuff spurts from its bulging mushroom head, splattering warm and sticky on my butt cheek and pooling in the small of my back. His seed is hot, and there’s so much of it. It feels wrong on my cooling skin. My wolf doesn’t like it either. She whines.
