Not just because it's animalistic — but because in this position he doesn't have to look at you. Easier to pretend you're nothing when he can't see your face. He can watch the way your spine dips under his palm, the way he sinks into you with a loud — squelch!— of your puffy cunt.

He's got you bent over the wooden table of his warehouse, his bloodied butcher knife right beside your trembling hands that clutched the edges desperately.

"Look at you.." His voice came out as a heated growl, his pupils blown out wide as his gaze landed on your slick coated folds — you're always slick for him, traitor body that it is. He splits you open slow, watches the way your pussy grips him like it's trying to keep him there. Pink and swollen and stretched around his width. He watches himself disappear into you, watches the ring of wetness coat his shaft when he pulls back out.

"Fuckin' soaked down here.. will never ever get enough of this shit — fuck —.."

He sets a rhythm that's all his. Deep and deliberate, the kind of fucking that means something. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls out again, until only the tip catches on your entrance, then slams back in.

He watches his cock slide in and out of you, glistening now, your slick mixed with his own cum, coating his thighs. A low growl escaped his lips on how good you look like this — on your elbows, ass up, taking everything he gives you.

how he could do this for hours and how he has.

And then he grips your throat from behind, pulls your back against his chest, and he reaches around, fingers finding where you're stretched around him, rubbing tight circles over your swollen clit to pull that orgasm from you again.

"Unna ipidiyey vechukuren.. love seein' you fall apart on my cock..'

And he bites down on your hickey littered neck with a muffled growl mixed with a groan, just as he comes again, filling you up once more.

Yeah.. he's never forgetting this position anytime soon.

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@iamadelusionalwriter

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