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He changed the angle.
Just a subtle shift of his wrist—tilting the dildo upward so the curved head kissed Shane’s prostate dead-on with every thrust.
The effect was immediate.
Shane’s back bowed violently. A high, girlish squeak bursted out of him—cute, almost shocked, the kind of sound he’d deny making forever. Then his mouth fell open in a silent scream. No noise at all for several long heartbeats. Just the obscene, wet squelch-squelch-squelch of the toy plunging in and out, lube foaming at the base, cream gathering in sticky white rings around his stretched rim.
His inner thighs shook harder—violent, uncontrollable tremors. His whole lower body vibrated. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it.
Then the air rushed back into his lungs.
A broken, keening whine tore out of him, followed by another, and another—loud, desperate, shameless. He thrashed weakly in Ilya’s hold, not trying to get away, just overwhelmed, body short-circuiting from pleasure.
Ilya was losing it.
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Bookmark Notes:
gah damn yeah
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