Quentin switched it yet again and yet again the heat threatened to burn her. He settled back into his position, holding her upper half up and clamping his fingers around her nipples. He twisted and turned, growing more and more fascinated at how she reacted. What he wouldn't give to push it further... For a bucket of ice and the lick of a candles flame or wax. Oh how she would squirm, and squeal.<br/><br/>The water went ice cold, he sat back. The time between changes was shrinking and he was growing more eager. She could vaguely hear his deep breaths over the splashing water, but only when she herself wasn't drowning it out. Hot. Cold.<br/><br/>Quentin had had enough. She was sending him mad with lust (not that he attributed the effect to her) and he needed her. His hands grew fierce, turning, pinching and pulling her precious nipples with increasing speed and intent, dragging them this way and that. He slapped her tits, reached down to pinch her clit, dragged her breasts in ways that were so uncomfortable it almost hurt, and even that wasn't enough.<br/><br/>He snapped, and spun her around again. The eager motions left little room for his usual measured grace. It was enough that she ended up with her top out of the bath, her legs in it, and her rear pushed out by the corner of it. His cock speared instantly into her impossibly sensitive cunt, paused for half a moment to revel in it, then fucked her. Hard.<br/><br/>From the second thrust his hips were an overeager blur, thrashing into her with reckless abandon. Water sloshed all over the place, but seemed unable to stop him. Neither the water nor her tight hole. He list himself to pistoning against her, ignoring her orgasms and all the mess to ensure that everything he was was poured into the simple act of rolling his dick into her over and over again.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>