He didn’t even give me time to catch my breath.
I was still sore, still leaking, thighs trembling as we stepped out of the bathroom. His c*m was dripping down my inner thighs, and my panties were balled up in his pocket. I was a mess. A wet, used mess. And I loved it.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t have to.
The look in his eyes said everything.
He wanted more.
The parking lot was dark and half-empty, but I barely noticed. My heart pounded as he unlocked his car, opened the back door, and grabbed my wrist.
“Get in,” he growled.
I didn’t hesitate.
He shoved me into the backseat, pushed my legs apart, and climbed in after me. His body hovered over mine as he slammed the door shut behind us. The inside of the car smelled like leather, heat, and s*x. It was already fogging up, just from our
