Jake’s c**k was still half-hard, slick with both of us, when he rolled off the bed and yanked the blanket to the floor in one motion. The carpet was soft enough, but the drop made my heart lurch. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down after him, flipping me onto my stomach before I could catch my breath.
“Ass up,” he ordered, voice low and gravel-rough, the kind of tone that made my spine arch without permission. I scrambled onto my elbows and knees, thighs slick with the c*m he’d already pumped into me, dripping in slow, warm trails down to the carpet.
The TV flickered above us—some new scene, a girl pinned against a brick wall, skirt hiked to her waist, taking it so hard her t**s bounced with every slap of skin on skin. The sound was muted now, but the visuals were enough: her mouth o
