Forbidden: Craving My Mother's Husband
"Oh, is Anastasia there? Put her on, I want to ask her about shoes."
Tristan pulls his cock from my mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva connects my lips to his tip. I gasp for air, my face flushed, my neck marked by the belt. He grabs my arm and hauls me up, tossing me onto the king-size bed. I bounce on the mattress, breathless and dazed.
He hands me the phone. "Try not to make sound babygirl," he whispers, his voice rough.
I take the phone with a trembling hand. "H-hey, Mom," I stammer.