Wrath’s fingers tightened around my throat, thick and unrelenting. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I was a rag doll—open, ruined, used. He hauled me halfway up, chest scraping the runes, until my lips hovered just inches from the tip of his c**k.
It was leaking.
Heavy.
Hot.
Too big.
I tried to speak. Beg. Explain. But he shoved forward.
His c**k forced my lips apart, stretching my mouth wide, stealing every sound. I gagged immediately, the taste flooding my tongue. He didn’t stop to let me adjust. Didn’t care. His hand held me there, throat clenched tight as his hips pushed more of himself down my throat.
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Behind me, Lust was still buried inside, f*****g deep and raw, driving my body forward only to be pulled back by Wrath’s c**k in my mouth
