Sky was wrecked.
Still kneeling on the boutique floor, c*m splattered across her t**s and soaking into the neckline of the delicate bridal gown like sin itself. Drool smeared across her lips. Mascara streaked. Her chest heaved with each breath, every inch of her sticky, flushed, and used.
Xavier stood above her, c**k still out, still hard, still throbbing.
“You’re not done,” he said, voice calm, deep, like he wasn’t looking at a woman dripping in his c*m, like this was just the beginning.
Her lips parted, panting. “Xavi… I can’t… I…”
“Crawl,” he ordered. “Now.”
She whimpered and obeyed.
On her hands and knees, the sheer satin dragged across the floor, c*m smearing against her chest as she crawled toward the mirror. Her thighs were sticky, p***y still leaking from the last two orgasm
