I woke up with his dried c*m pulling tight between my thighs and my door still open.
The house was quiet. Mom’s conference was two cities away. Grant stood in my doorway already dressed from the waist down, coffee in one hand, watching me sleep on my back like he’d told me to.
“Knees. Hallway. Now.”
I crawled off the bed naked. Carpet burned. My t**s hung. I stopped at his feet and opened my mouth because that was the rule.
He set the mug on the hall table, freed himself, and laid his c**k on my tongue.
“Hold it. Drool. Your mother is going to call in twelve minutes and I want you sloppy when she does.”
I held him. Spit ran off my lip onto my chest. He thickened and started using my throat in slow, deep strokes that made me gag quietly against the runner. Snot threatened. He wiped it
