Taboo Runs Wild
Instead of releasing my thighs, he presses one down harder, pinning it, his spit mixing with my wetness, sending electric jolts through my veins.
I crave more—filthy, degrading, perfect.
“I want more, please… spit on me, please,” I cry, words tumbling out unfiltered, my body betraying every sense.
It started craving Damon long ago.
“Oh, you want more? You’re so dirty, aren’t you… my dirty little plaything,” he says, pouring another fat glob of saliva onto my pussy.
It hits my mound, rolling slow down to my clit, slick and obscene.
“Touch yourself for me, baby… touch it before you can have my cock,” he commands, eyes burning.