I shriek and squirm under his unrelenting touch. I surpress a moan. “Are you going to cum, filthy fucking whore? I can feel his gaze on my simple black dress, short, low-cut, and hugging my curves delicately. He forcefully throws me back and my head lands on his perfectly fluffed pillows. He hauls my hips to meet his and holds both my wrists behind my back in one of his strong hands. I have to actually look at him this way, and I can tell he’s not going to make it easy on me. “Of course I came back, Cole.” I force out the words, my voice barely a whisper. I hear his zipper being undone and make a weak attempt to crawl off the bed. “I knew you liked this, fucking whore. I yelp and immediately still, and he laughs, sick and humorless. I know it’s about to get good. “Fucking cunt, filthy fucking cunt,” he moans, and I feel him explode inside of me. This stoop isn’t new to me, this house isn’t new to
