The text came at 6:03.
Downstairs. Now. No panties. Door unlocked.
I was already wet. I’d spent the last two days clenching around the memory of him and leaking into every pair of underwear I owned until I stopped wearing them. I unlocked the door, pulled my shorts off, and waited on the couch exactly where he’d bent me last time. When he walked in he locked it behind him and looked at the shine on my thighs.
“Three days and you’re still dripping. Good. On your knees first. I’m taking the start of this payment in your throat. Then I’m finishing in your cunt. Twice. You hold both.”
I dropped. He freed his c**k—thick, already hard—and pushed into my mouth without warning. The head hit the back of my throat and stayed until I gagged and spit flooded. He gripped my hair and f****d my mouth
