Tyler pulls Ryan out of me – I whine at the emptiness – and takes his place. Slides into my used p***y and groans. “Still tight. Even after that. She’s f*****g perfect.”
They rotate through me. Tyler, then Derek, then Josh. Each one different – different sizes, different rhythms, different ways of making me feel used. And with each one, my unconscious fiancé snores peacefully on the couch, oblivious to his bride being passed around like a s*x toy.
“Bedroom,” Ryan finally says. “I want more room to work with.”
The master bedroom has floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony with a view of the entire city skyline.
It also has a California king bed with sheets that probably cost more than my wedding dress.
I’m about to ruin them.
“On the bed,” Ryan commands. “Hands and knees.”
I crawl ont
