DON’T STOP
I moaned louder, riding him faster, grinding my clit against his pelvis with every downward stroke.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled against my skin. “So tight. So wet. This pussy was made for me.”
I could only whimper in response, lost in the feeling of him stretching me, filling me, owning me.
The rain kept falling outside.
And inside his car, we moved together slowly, deep, and filthy, like three years apart had never happened.
Like we had never been exes at all.