Arian Wulf

she whines, the unnatural stretch inside her growing more than little uncomfortable, made worse when she attempts to shift.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his breath hot on her neck where he’s still breathing hard against her. “It’s my knot,” he says.
“Your knot?” she whispers, trying to relax and resist the urge to try and pull away again. She can feel the unforgiving pressure of his manhood inside her, the tug of where they’re join and the stretch from where she tried to pull away.
He groans, feeling her walls clench around him. He makes a low, pained sound when he pulses inside her