Adam was still at the office when I got home.
I locked the apartment door, kicked off my heels, and stood in the bathroom with the dinner dress bunched around my waist. Victor’s c*m was warm and thick between my thighs, already leaking into the ruined panties. My phone sat on the counter. I took the picture he wanted—dress up, panties tugged aside, his load visible and dripping—and sent it before I could think too hard. The reply came in under a minute.
Good. Leave them on. When he gets home and f***s you, he’s going to slide through me. Text me after and tell me how it felt. Every detail. If you clean up first, he gets the video before morning.
I pulled the dress down, washed my face, and waited on the couch with my thighs pressed together. Adam walked in just after eleven, tired and s
