The lesson was brutal, a baptism by fire and flesh. Jax was a relentless, demanding instructor, and Natasha's throat was his unwilling, yet pliable, student.
He showed no mercy, his grip on her hair an iron shackle, his hips a piston driving his massive cock deeper with every thrust. He ignored her choked sobs and the tears that tracked clean paths through the mess on her face.
Her struggles were pathetic, the weak fluttering of a captured bird, and only seemed to excite him further, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent.
"Breathe, you stupid slut," he'd growl, pulling back just enough for her to snatch a desperate, ragged breath through her nose before plunging back into the tight, convulsing heat of her throat. "Or do you want to pass out and miss the best part?"
