“Where did you get Anna’s clothes! “Why the fuck are you dressed like her! Are you fucking insane” She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look down. Didn’t even blink. She just stared back at him like she was waiting for him to catch up. “What’s wrong with me?” she repeated slowly. His hands dropped away from her like she’d burned him. “You pretended to be her,” he growled. “You let me touch you thinking..Jesus fuck..do you have any idea what that does to someone?” “Do you have any fucking idea!” “What the fuck is wrong with you “I do,” she answered. Her voice was too steady. That made it worse. He stepped back again. Couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think straight. His cock was still hard. His heart still aching. His mind still trying to crawl out of the hole it just fell into. “I can’t even look at you right now,” he muttered. She moved closer. He tried to back away but she didn’t stop. She stepped right up to him. Pressed her chest to his. Lifted her eyes
“Isadora.” His voice was thick with sleep when he said her name, his throat rough, lips cracked from how hard he’d kissed her the night before. He shifted on the bed, stretched out an arm across the sheets like he could find her again in the heat they shared. But there was nothing. Just cold silk and empty air. His brow creased. “Isadora,” he said again, louder this time. Still nothing. His hand slid lower, fingers brushing against the faint damp spot where her thighs had soaked into the mattress. His cock was hard. Rock fucking hard. Morning wood didn’t even begin to describe the brutal ache pulsing between his legs. He groaned, deep and guttural, dragging his palm down the base of his shaft as it twitched against his stomach. “Fuck,” he growled, teeth clenched. “Where the hell did you go, baby?” He didn’t have time for this. He needed her. Right now. Not just her body. Not just her scent. Her. The way she looked when she came apart for him. The way she sc
Not even a twitch. She laughed. Or maybe cried. It came out like both. Like her body couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to do anymore. She raised the gun higher. Her finger hovered. Curled. Just do it. Just pull the trigger. He wouldn’t feel a thing. He’d die peacefully. Just like this. With that fucking calm on his face. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve sleep. Or comfort. Or softness. She did. And he’d taken it from her. He’d taken everything. Her heart beat faster. Her lips trembled. The pressure behind her eyes was blinding now. A tear slipped out, and she didn’t wipe it. “Look at me,” she said, breath catching hard. “Please, Dominic. Just..just fucking look at me.” And still. Nothing. Her hand dropped a little. Her shoulders curled in. She bit her bottom lip so hard it started to bleed. Her eyes burned. And then she couldn’t hold it anymore. Her knees hit the floor first. Then her palms. The gun slid out of her hand and landed be
She didn’t wipe the tears. Not because she didn’t feel them. But because they deserved to fall. They slid down her cheeks in hot, aching trails, carving through the heat still clinging to her skin like the aftertaste of sin. They soaked into her jaw, the corners of her mouth, the hollow of her neck. And still, she didn’t move. She didn’t lift a hand to stop them. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. It was like her body had been emptied of instinct. Like the part of her that used to feel things had crawled out of her chest and died. Her legs trembled beneath her. She could feel the soreness between her thighs. Her pussy was still wet… not from pleasure, but from everything that came after. The mess. The ruin. The brutal knowing. Her heart wasn’t breaking anymore. It had already cracked clean through. What was left inside her chest was hollow. Like someone had reached in during the night and scooped it all out with their bare hands. She turned toward the dresser. Slowly. Lik
Isadora wanted more. She wanted to flip him onto his back and ride him until he cried. She wanted to tie him to the fucking headboard, gag his pretty mouth, edge him for hours, then sit on his face until he begged to breathe. But when she sat up, sticky thighs trembling as she slowly pulled herself off his cock, the first thing she saw..was his face. He was asleep. Mouth parted slightly. Lips swollen from the way she’d bitten him. His chest was still slick, flushed from sex, his arms sprawled out like he’d just been fucking worshiped. And the bastard had the nerve to fall asleep. She blinked. Stared at him. Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “Fucking bastard,” she muttered. She shook her head, climbed off the bed completely, legs sore, her cunt leaking a mix of fluids that painted the insides of her thighs. Her walk was unsteady. Her skin was tacky with sweat. Her head was spinning. She needed to go to where she last saw her phone and take her phone
Her fingers slid down between her thighs again. She rubbed herself right where they were joined, moaning as her clit throbbed, as the overstretched lips of her pussy ached and pulsed around the thick length still buried in her.“You’re going to sit there,” she whispered, voice thick and shaking with pleasure, “and let me fuck the cum out of you. Every last drop. Until you beg me to stop.”She started bouncing again.This time slower.Her pussy slapped against his hips with every thrust and dripping and creamy . His cock slipped deeper, twitching inside her, overstimulated and desperate, but he didn’t pull out.He couldn’t.She was milking him.Her walls dragged against every nerve. Every vein. Her cunt was swallowing him whole, again and again and again, until his eyes rolled back.“Too much,” he groaned, voice strained.She smiled.“Too fucking bad.”Her hands grabbed his wrists.Pinned them above his head.She rode him harder now, faster, her tits bouncing with every bounce of her b