My legs were trembling. My throat was raw. And my p***y—my poor, overstretched p***y—was still dripping everything he’d poured into me.
But he wasn’t done.
He grabbed my wrists and untied them slowly, almost gently. My arms dropped, limp from how hard he’d used me.
“You okay?” he asked, voice lower now. Rough, but careful.
I nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
“Good.” He leaned closer, lips brushing my ear. “Because I’m about to break you all over again.”
Before I could speak, he yanked me off the bed and dragged me toward the floor-length mirror on the wall.
“Look,” he growled, spinning me to face my reflection. “Look at what I’ve turned you into.”
I gasped when I saw myself—hair wild, lips swollen, makeup ruined, thighs slick with c*m. I looked like a girl who’d been wrecked in every way.
