The next morning, sunlight filtered through my curtains, pulling me from a dream where Ryan's hands were everywhere, gripping, spanking, filling. My body woke aching, p***y tender but insistent, a dull throb that had me reaching for my phone.
His message from last night glowed: ‘Address? And wear something easy to rip off.’ I laughed, typing back: ‘Downtown loft, 5th and Elm. Door's unlocked at noon. Bring that cock.’ Send. Heart racing already.
I showered, the hot water soothing bruises on my hips, faint red marks from his smacks blooming on my ass. Lathering up, I couldn't resist, fingers slipping between folds, replaying the bathroom frenzy. How he'd eaten me out, tongue f*****g the c*m back in; the way he'd bent me over the toilet, pounding until I saw stars. Moaning softly, I came
