He did not let her rest.
That was the first thing Avriana understood — the warmth still spreading through her womb, slow and bloating and overwhelming, was not a conclusion.
It was intermission.
His hands were still on her breasts. His cock still inside her. And he was still hard.
'Still.'
'How.'
"Raven—" Her voice barely assembled, cracked at the edges. "You just—"
"Yes," he said. Simply, warmly, the flat tone of a man confirming something that needed no elaboration.
He pulled out.
Slow. Dragging. The wet, clinging resistance of her body trying to hold him — the obscene sound of it, his thick, seed-and-blood-coated cock sliding free in one unhurried motion — and she made a sound she didn't have a name for.
"Hngh—mm—?!"
The emptiness hit her like a verdict.
The hollow, throbbing rawness of walls that had been pushed to their limit, now receiving cold air with the unguarded helplessness of something with no closing mechanism left.
His seed began to leak.
