Chapter 77
Riley
Ian’s long, thick c.o.c.k rested heavy against my dripping, c.u.m-filled p.u.s.s.y, the fat head nudging my swollen folds.
I was trembling with need like some fish out of water. My forehead was pressed against the cold gla.s.s, a.s.s pushed out.
“Beg,” he repeated, “Tell me exactly why I should finally...