I wake up with his c**k already inside me.
Not thrusting. Just buried. Thick and heavy and pulsing against my sore walls like it never left. Marcus is spooned behind me, one arm locked around my waist, the other hand lazily rolling my n****e between two fingers. Morning light cuts across the bed. My thighs are glued together with dried c*m. My p***y feels swollen, used, and still full.
“Morning, baby,” he rasps against the back of my neck. His hips roll once — a slow, filthy grind that pushes another warm trickle of last night’s load out around his shaft. “You’ve been clenching in your sleep. Little cunt’s been sucking on daddy all night.”
I whimper. I’m already wet again. It doesn’t matter that I’m raw. My body doesn’t care.
He doesn’t ask. He just starts f*****g me like that — lazy,
