She’s not waiting. Not for foreplay, not for permission—just the second that cock hits her lips, she’s already working it down like she hasn’t had one in weeks. Glasses slipping, fingers tangled in his hair as he shoves deeper, no mercy given or asked for. The kitchen countertop creaks under their weight as he pins her back against it, ass still warm from whatever she was doing before this all went sideways. Deep strokes. No mercy. Her throat clenches around him hard enough to make his eyes water but she doesn’t stop—not when he grips her chin and shoves another inch down, not when the first ropes hit her cheekbone like thick paint smeared across skin.
