by Eva Brown
His hips thrust against mine, bruising my skin in his urgency. My fingers grasp the back of his neck, my knees and thighs grip him as if he were a horse I’m riding. The muscles of my inner walls clasp his penis as though this is the place I’m holding on the tightest.
The only thing that matters is the moment. And this is a moment I don’t want to miss, whatever fate is waiting for me afterwards.