Full, plush lips glide along mine, a tongue teasing at my bottom one as the shred of silk heats the air.

My mouth opens and those lips come down hard. I kiss him back, trying to tear my hands free, to wrap them in his hair and force him closer, but he doesn’t allow it.

The finger inside me begins to pump in and out, slow at first, then faster. Another.

My hips begin to roll, the kiss is broken and hands glide under my dress and bra, my breasts now heavy in calloused palms.

I moan, my lips parting as the fingers inside me disappear.

The hiss of a zipper hastily torn down creates a spasm low in my belly and I reach out.

Someone comes to me, buries their face in my neck as a cock buries itself inside me.

A desperate groan echoes and heavy panting fills the space around me.

“So fucking sexy, yeah, Arsen?” Beretta’s words are strained, the hands on my hips holding me steady, twitching.

My nipples are pinched, my neck kissed.

I’m fucked slow and deep, the pace spiking with my pulse.

I moan into the air, my legs widening, stretching.

The need is building, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt, and my pussy is rocked over and over.

Heavy grunts have my fingers curling, hands overwhelm me, and I’m crying into the air.

“I need... fuck I—” I break off in a moan, my back arched high.

The cock inside me flexes, holds, and tears away, but only seconds pass and I’m filled again.

My legs are pushed back, held up, and I thrash along the hood.

“Fuck, she’s about to come.”

“I know.”

“Kiss her. Claim it.”

A mouth falls hard on mine.

It’s rough and punishing, possessive and commanding, and I gasp, my body shaking, my tongue diving inside, tangling with his.

My pussy convulses, his cock twitching as I do, and he rolls his hips, pressing deeper.

A finger comes down over my clit, applying pressure, and I squeeze his cock tightly.

He slips out, the sound of jeans being shuffled, belts being fastened filling the air around me, and then I’m lifted and held, my muscles limp beyond my control.

I’m pulled against someone, my bare center flush with his cotton shirt, my cheek placed on his strong chest.

The wild beat of his heart soothes my own, my breathing growing lax along with his.

I jolt, attempting to pull free when the back of his knuckle comes up, sliding beneath the cut on my cheek.

The cut I came here tonight to forget, along with the man in front of me when it happened.

Along with the difference in reaction from the ones I’m with now when they saw it.

He doesn’t allow me to escape, though.

He holds me there, gently rubbing at my skin as if he sensed I was scared.