For several long seconds, neither of us moved. His c**k twitched violently inside me, as if my confession made him even harder. Then he let out a low, broken sound—half shock, half raw hunger.
“You… what the f**k,” he whispered. But he didn’t pull out. If anything, his grip on my hips tightened, holding me in place on his throbbing length.
I turned my head slightly, meeting his wide, darkened eyes over my shoulder. My cheeks burned. My p***y fluttered around the thick intrusion. “I should have said something sooner… but your fingers… they felt too good. I couldn’t stop.”
Mark’s expression shifted. The initial horror melted into something darker, more dangerous. Pure, filthy lust. He pushed forward another inch, burying himself deeper, making me whimper.
“You little liar,” he breathed,
