Her moans spilled out more freely now—raw and uneven, no longer polite, no longer restrained. Her thighs began to shake, and her hand on the counter slid as her body arched with need. The sounds of her wet pussy and her finger filled the stall and his phone two as he watched her pussy twitch in pleasure.
He enjoyed her like this...
Peter's voice turned dangerous. A purr that stroked down her spine. "Tell me what you're thinking about."
She didn't answer right away. She was gasping now, chest rising in frantic rhythm, mouth opening like she was trying to form words but kept losing them.
"You," she finally breathed, voice cracking. "Your mouth… your hands… the way you grabbed my throat in this exact bathroom and told me I was yours."
Her eyes fluttered shut like the memory itself could make her come apart.
Peter leaned in so close to the camera, his voice was practically in her bloodstream.
"Say it again."
"I'm yours," she whispered, breathless, broken, beautiful.
