He didn’t speak when he crossed the threshold, he didn’t need to.
The second the bedroom door slammed behind him, he grabbed me by the throat, not hard enough to choke, just enough to own, and walked me backward until my knees hit the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress, still shaking from the orgasm I’d screamed.
He stood over me, his hoodie stretched across his broad shoulders, jeans shoved down just enough to free the thickest c**k I’d ever seen in real life, the veins were pulsing, flushed dark, with pre-c*m dripping in a long string from the fat head.
He stroked once, slowly, eyes locked on my spread thighs and the mess I’d made of the sheets.
“Look at this greedy little cunt,” he rasped. “Already ruined and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
I whimpered, my legs falling open wide
