'Let them.' He hiked her skirt up her thighs, exposing her stockings and garters—lingerie she'd chosen unconsciously, perhaps for Vince's imagined dinner. But Vardo claimed it, ripping her panties aside with a tear, the fabric snapping. Cool air kissed her bare p***y, already swelling, lips parting slickly at his proximity.
His palm cracked against her ass, the slap echoing sharply, sting blooming through the thin material. 'This is for the speech. For thinking you can play both sides.' Another spank, harder, her cheek reddening, heat spreading to her p***y. Nia bit her lip, stifling a gasp, the Oval's sanctity amplifying the wrongness—Vince's desk, his domain, now a stage for his brother's conquest.
Vardo unzipped, the sound obscene in the quiet room, his d**k springing free—thick, vein
