I lost track of how many times he made me come.
Three? Four? My brain was mush, my p***y swollen and aching in the best way, thighs slick with a mix of my own wetness and the c*m he’d already pumped into me once on the bed. He’d pulled out at the last second that time, painting my stomach and t**s in thick ropes while growling filthy praise about how pretty I looked covered in him.
Now we weren’t even on the bed anymore.
He’d dragged me down onto the cheap dorm carpet, the one that left little red indentations on my knees and palms. I was on all fours again, ass high, back arched so deep my t**s nearly touched the floor. Luke knelt behind me, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough that I knew I’d have fingerprints tomorrow.
“Look at this f*****g view,” he r
