My cock stood saluting the ceiling, throbbing like a fucking heartbeat, veins pulsing along the cock, the head glistening with precome that dripped in thick, shiny strings down to my abs.
The air in the room was heavy, charged with the musky scent of Emily's pussy and my own desperation, my wrists still bound to the bedrest by her soaked panties, the fabric digging into my skin like a fucking brand.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Like a fucking predator.
The door creaked open.
Freya.
Her eyes locked onto my cock before she even registered my face. The towel in her hand slipped, dropping to the floor with a soft thud, her lips parting in a gasp—fake surprise, but her eyes betrayed her. They lingered, hungry, tracing every inch of my cock, the glistening tip, the way it jerked in the air like it was fucking waving at her.
