No, He can’t leave like that.
Not when his c**k is straining against his jeans, not after wrecking me with his fingers and walking away like it was nothing.
He did it once after f*****g my mouth but this is different…his c*m is important to me.
My legs are still shaking as I push off the bathroom sink with my nightgown in a rough state.
My thighs are sticky with my own release as take unsteady steps out, f**k, he can't leave.
I stumble out into the hallway with my heart pounding against my ribs, and I find out he’s in the kitchen packing his toolbox.
He keeps his back turned even though my breathing is loud enough to catch attention.
He is acting like he doesn't notice me, like he didn’t just make me come so hard I saw stars.
“Ryder“ I say his name and he pauses his movements, but
