Sadie
I was bouncing and grinding on him, the friction of his c**k against my walls the only thing keeping me grounded.
I worked my hips in a hard, punishing pace, feeling his hands squeeze my breasts with a possessive grip. I tried to look anywhere else—the ceiling, the wall, the rumpled sheets—but every time I averted my eyes, he’d reach up and force my head back.
"Look at me, Sadie," he’d mutter.
It irritated me gravely. I hated being told what to do, especially by someone who was nothing more than a temporary distraction. I wasn't even getting off on the s*x itself; it was just a physical release for the absolute rage boiling in my blood.
I was seething. I could still see Damien’s smug face and that little pet w***e of his. The way grandfather had me thrown out during dinner...
