She was no longer just a woman having sex; she was a woman declaring war on her old life. Every thrust from Mike was a nail in the coffin of her marriage, and every drop of his semen was a new beginning.
She wanted the consequence of this madness; she wanted the permanent, physical mark of Mike's dominance inside her.
"YES! YESSSS! OHHHH GOD, MIKE! MORE! MORE! MORE! AAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Mike let out a roar of pure, masculine triumph, hearing her demand the ultimate surrender. He gripped her hips even harder, his fingers digging into her flesh, and increased the speed of his thrusts to a violent, staccato rhythm.
He was pumping into her with everything he had, a relentless, heavy machine of pleasure, driven by her command to leave his mark forever.
The room was filled with the sounds of their collision, the slapping of skin, the heavy, rhythmic thud of the bed, and Petricia's unending, beautiful screams of a woman who had finally, violently, found exactly what she was looking for.
