Poor Little Shyla #02

He bit down on her shoulder, thrusting into her from behind with hard, even strokes. Sarah arched, knuckles white against the sheets. She pressed back against him and reached for his wrist. He caught her hand. Turned her over. Took her other leg over his shoulder. Sweat glistened between her breasts. She felt slick, tight around him. He drove deeper, gripped her thigh with callused fingers. Her head fell back, mouth open. The headboard thudded steady against the wall.