Her pathetic, muffled moans were entirely swallowed by his thick cock as he established a grueling rhythm—slow, impossibly deep strokes that forced her to gag, breathe, swallow, and stretch, all at the exact same time.
And above her flushed, ruined face, Cruxius smiled.
It wasn't a cruel smirk.
It was the quiet, mesmerized smile of a man falling deeply, irreversibly in love with the beautiful filth he had created.
Cruxius watched her—her plump lips swollen around his girth, the delicate line of her throat visibly bulging as she fought to accommodate more of him. Her dark eyes stayed locked onto his face, glassy with unshed tears, shimmering with that sickening, sacred blend of deep shame and feral need that only she could wear so beautifully.
He wanted more.
No—he wanted everything.
And she was ready to give it.
