Haruki's grip tightened.
His hands slid forward, wrapping around Kyouko's wrists. He pulled her arms back toward him, her chest lifting from the sheets, her upper body arching gracefully into the air.
She was barely holding on.
He leaned in—his lips brushing against the curve of her neck, his breath hot, rough.
And he moved.
Harder.
Deeper.
Each thrust slapped against her soaked core, the wetness loud, slick, obscene. Her body jerked forward with every impact, only to be pulled back again by his grip. Her soft ass met his hips with sharp, delicious contact, again and again.
He kissed her neck.
Tasted the sweat on her skin.
She was so tight.
So warm.
So wet.
And then.
He felt it.
Her entire body tensed.
Her back arched upward, her head tilted back, and her mouth opened in a silent scream as her inner walls clamped down violently on his cock.
She came.
Hard.
Her thighs trembled, legs nearly giving out beneath her.
And Haruki—he felt every wave.
