He didn't take her to a clean sheet. He bent her over the end of the bed the hired girl had just left, dress rucked, and pushed in before she finished the ask.
Full. One stroke. The stretch burned and then didn't, because she was soaked and open and done pretending. Willa grabbed the mattress. Elias held her hips and stayed buried, throbbing, the wet sound of the hour still in the room.
"Still a choice," he said. "Stop, and you shower, and we meet her like a house. Don't, and I f**k you until the gate camera pings. You don't get to wash. You smile when she kisses you."
"Don't stop."
He pulled back and drove in. Deep. Meaner than the fingers, meaner than the denial. Every stroke shoved a filthy sound into the quiet studio, her cunt clutching, the dress flapping at her waist, last night'
