He pushed me off the couch like I weighed nothing. I landed on my back on the thin, scratchy rug, legs splayed, c*m still leaking from my swollen p***y in slow, filthy pulses. The overhead lamp was off; only the city glow through the blinds striped his body in silver and shadow as he stood over me.
“Hands and knees. Face the window.”
I rolled over, trembling. My knees screamed against the rough carpet, ass up, back arched, t**s swaying. I could see our reflection in the dark glass. Me wrecked and dripping, him towering behind me, c**k jutting heavy and wet again.
He dropped to his knees, fisted my hair, and fed himself into my mouth first. One brutal thrust that hit the back of my throat and held. I gagged, drooled, tears streaming, but I took it because I knew what came next.
He f****
