All Yours
Chloe was on the bed, on her stomach, scrolling her phone with AirPods in.
Wearing nothing but a thin white tank top and pale pink cotton panties that rode up between her plump ass cheeks.
Legs kicked up behind her, toes painted red.
Oblivious.
Perfect.
He was on her in seconds.
One gloved hand clamped over her mouth.
The other grabbed her wrists, wrenching them behind her back.
She bucked wildly, screaming into his palm—muffled, panicked.
He straddled her, pinning her down with his weight.