He hovered over her, his heavy frame pinning her into the mattress. The gentleness of the 'loving husband' was dead, replaced by the raw hunger of a man who had been interrupted mid feast. He drove into her with a ferocity that made the bedframe groan, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, punishing force.
When her voice cracked, a desperate, high pitched plea "Yes, sir... fuck me like your whore!" it acted like gasoline on a flame.
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