Do You Want

Riley Steele’s body snaps like live wire when Small Hands grabs her wrists. The fight leaves her mouth in one word: No. That’s all he needs. He pins her, legs spread, and her tits heave under his grip. She spits in his face, but her thighs betray her, slick and open. He drives in raw. She takes every inch, throat tight, saliva dripping down her chin while he forces deeper. The ropes bite her skin, blonde hair twisted in his fist. Each thrust smacks loud against those heavy tits, slapping back and forth, sweat gleaming. Riley chokes on him when he pulls her up for more, eyes glassy, drool running. Small Hands slams harder. She comes shaking, biting his lip until he spits blood and keeps pounding. The bed frame rattles. No slow build. Just the wet slap of skin, her muffled moans, and the brutal rhythm of a man who gives her exactly what she asked for without asking.