I was still on my knees when Marcus called.
Adrian had one hand in my hair and his c**k buried in my throat, f*****g my mouth in slow, deep strokes that made spit run down my chin and onto my chest. The kitchen floor was cold under my knees. Coffee sat untouched on the counter above us. My phone buzzed against the tile—Marcus, video call. Adrian saw the screen light up and smiled. He didn’t pull out. He reached down, swiped to answer, and angled the phone so only my eyes and forehead would show if I lifted my head.
“Talk,” he said quietly, hips still moving. “Sound normal.”
I tried to pull back. His hand tightened, holding me there, the thick head of his c**k resting on my tongue. A wet sound slipped out around him when he thrust. Marcus’s face filled the small screen—hotel room, tie lo
