Rylee
The parlor is dark, perfect for filthy and shady stuff.
Alvar’s touch changes everything. At first, he’s just caressing my face. But soon, his hands slide lower, turning his touches into something erotic. He explores my body and kisses me with passion.
I’m not in the mood. I’m still reeling from Kristen’s beating and the frustration of losing my freedom.
I stop him when his hand moves between my thighs. “I... my foot still hurts,” I lie. His lust is strong and I’m afraid of losing my virginity here.
“Shit!” he curses in a low voice
Alvar buries his head in my neck, nibbling lightly. His ragged breath makes me shiver.
He tries everything to turn me on. Then he makes me lie down and suck his cock.
This time, he lasts longer than last time. My face is sore, my hands are weak. When he’s done, he pulls me on top of him and kisses me deeply.
He even makes me lick his chin—the spot where I bit him.
This man is sick. He is a whore. His penis could go up at anytime, anywhere.
At night, A
