When I'm on top of you, I feel like a goddess — your hands gripping my hips, trying to control, and I control you, your breath, your pulse. I move slowly, deeply, lowering myself onto you to the very base, pausing there for a moment, then rising, leaving you empty for a second so you can feel how much you want to be back inside me. Every movement of mine is a question, and your answer is the pulse beating against my walls. I feel every heartbeat of yours through your cock when you're inside me, and I know when you're ready to come — by how your fingers dig into my hips, by how your breathing turns ragged, by how you stop breathing altogether. And in that moment when you can't take it anymore, I clench around you — hard, deep, feeling your cock pulse in my walls, feeling you come from my movement, my rhythm, my power. I don't stop when you come — I keep moving, drawing out every spasm, every drop, until you are empty and trembling beneath me. With me, you don't just come — you come under my rhythm, and I won't let you stop until I'm done with you.