She's a complete mess, and he didn't appreciate before how much of a turn on that is. Lips swollen and wet, flushed, her hair all over the place, sticking to her brow and her cheeks. The very fact she can't voice how much she wants her orgasm does terrible things to him, stirring him all over again, and he almost wants to pull out now, leave her wanting and desperate, but he can't be that cruel to her. Not when her fingers are knotted so tightly in his hair.
So he fucks into her again, with renewed vigour, his own hands grasping her ass again, nails biting into the round flesh.
"Come then." He grunts, "Show me how much you liked getting fucked with the whole of Hightown watching."
She gasps raggedly and clutches at him, one arm gripping around his shoulders so tight it has to hurt, but Hawke is so very far from caring about that. No, all she cares about is his cock inside her, the velvet voice snarling filth in her ear, the stubble rasping at her cheek and his strong hands on her. Maker, it feels so good- clinging like a limpet with one arm, she snakes the other hand between their bodies to touch herself, fingers making light quick circles around her clit. That last little burst of feeling pushes her over the edge: she arches her back and clamps her legs around him like a vise as she comes hard around his cock, making a shivering, mewling cry, ruined and pitiful, into his ear.
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So he fucks into her again, with renewed vigour, his own hands grasping her ass again, nails biting into the round flesh.
"Come then." He grunts, "Show me how much you liked getting fucked with the whole of Hightown watching."
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