The next instant Rajesh’s cock, which had been only the blunt pressure of the head against my entrance, drove forward in one continuous, merciless thrust. The thick length split me open and the flared tip slammed against my cervix. A raw scream tore up my throat. He sealed his mouth over mine and swallowed the sound, kissing me with a hunger that felt almost violent. Our first real kiss. His lips crushed mine, tongue forcing its way in, sucking, claiming, exchanging saliva until my mouth belonged to him as completely as my cunt did.

He fucked me in the classic missionary position I had craved the night before—deep, rhythmic, punishing strokes that forced the air from my lungs with every impact. My breasts were flattened under the hard plane of his chest. His weight pinned me. I tried to push against his shoulders; he was stronger. Five minutes of savage pounding left my pussy aching and flooded, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet room. When he finally slowed, resting on his elbows with his cock buried to the root, he looked down at me with glittering pride.