Claimed Raw by my Husband's Ruthless Best friend
“Hate me properly.”
The room was spinning—whiskey, powder, stale smoke making everything blur into heat and sweat and the wet sounds of us. I fucked her like I wanted to ruin her—my hips snapping erratic, my hand bruising her thigh, mouth leaving marks wherever it landed.
She gave it all back, her nails tearing down my back, teeth catching my shoulder until I grunted.
It was rough. Ugly. And just perfect.
But the high started crashing too soon. The powder burned bright then fizzled, leaving the whiskey to pull me down heavy. My thrusts got sloppy. I lost the sharp edge, turned deeper, slower, almost clumsy.