“There she is.”
He spun me, dropped to nothing like courtesy, and shoved me down by the hair until my knees hit the carpet. His belt was already open. His c**k came out heavy, thick, flushed dark at the head, a vein standing along the shaft. Older-man c**k. The kind that looked like it had ruined better women than me and still wanted the mess.
“Spit on it.”
I spat. He smeared it down with his fist, then tapped the head against my lips until they parted. He did not ease in. He fed it over my tongue and hit the back of my throat on the second push, holding my hair so I couldn’t retreat. I gagged. Spit spilled over my chin onto the red dress. He groaned, low and pleased, and started f*****g my mouth in short ugly strokes.
“Look at you. Engagement dress. Mascara going. Mouth full of the ma
