Keep fucking her hard against the wall

You began to move, your pace hard and fast, each stroke a violent collision of skin against cold ceramic. The sound of your bodies meeting was a wet, rhythmic slap that echoed in the sterile silence of the restroom. You drove into her with a predatory intensity, your hips snapping forward to hammer your cock against her cervix. Maya was a mess of shivering nerves and desperate gasps, her legs locked tight around your waist, pulling you deeper into her as if she wanted to be absorbed by the sheer force of your movement.

As the tension in your gut tightened into a knot of white hot electricity, the proximity of the end became a physical weight. Your breath came in ragged, guttural bursts, your skin slick with sweat and the scent of her arousal. In the middle of the rhythmic chaos, you gripped her hips, digging your fingers into her soft flesh to anchor her. You leaned in close, your voice a low, distorted growl against her neck, asking if she was on birth control.

She let out a broken, breathless laugh, her head tossing back against the tiles as she felt you hit her deepest point. "No," she gasped, her voice trembling with the onset of another peak, "I am not." The admission acted like a catalyst, a final surrender to the danger of the moment. The lack of a barrier made the act feel illicit, a reckless gamble that only amplified the pleasure. You didn't slow down, instead pushing her harder, faster, until the world narrowed down to the wet, sliding friction of your cock and the frantic, pleading whimpers of the woman beneath you.