My eyes flutter closed when I brush a fingertip over my aching c**t. I have to plant my other hand on the tabletop so I don’t fall down as a wave of hot weakness floods through me.
“You’re such a good girl when you listen, Willow,” Leo remarks.
I shiver, just like I always do when he says things like that. I can hate him by day. Despise him, loathe him, wish he’d never been born or at least never defiled my life the way that he has.
But when night falls and his voice deepens and he calls me his kukolka, his good girl?
I’m putty in his hands.
“Come here now,” he orders.
I step towards him and put one knee on each side of his lap. He lines himself up with my entrance.
Then, with one hand on my hip, he coaxes me down to fill myself with his massive c**k.
The first few inches make me d
