Marcus held the buzzing poker chip, its hum a taunt against my oversensitive c**t. I moaned, my hips twitching, my body begging despite the exhaustion. The casino’s hum outside felt louder, like someone could barge in any second.
“You’re a f*****g mess,” he said, his voice dark, amused. His fingers trailed through the c*m on my stomach, smearing it across my t**s. I shivered, my n*****s hardening under his touch.
I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down, his hand firm on my chest. “Stay,” he growled, grabbing my wrists. He yanked my arms above my head, pinning them to the table.
I smirked, defiance flaring even as my p***y clenched. “What now?” I asked, my voice hoarse, daring him to push me further. His eyes glinted, promising something dirtier, nastier.
He reached for his discar
