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My entire mouth is inside his and he’s sucking on it.
I'm Sorry but yuck!
That he’s going to tear off the straps of my dress. And just like that, he does it. The straps give way under the unrelenting pressure of his fingers and I jerk again. I gasp when it happens. My hands fall away from his biceps and grip his sides. He actually tore off my dress. He actually did it. “You tore off my straps,” I whisper uselessly, like he doesn’t know. Like he didn’t do it with his bare hands. One hand, actually. One hand for each strap. That’s all it took to lay waste to my dress. “I did,”
Okay, fucking RUDE.
“I’m going to buy you a hundred dresses. A thousand dresses. And you’re going to wear them all. You’re going to wear them all for me. And I’m going to tear them all off with my bare hands. You know why?”
Sir you're on a coaches salary. Dont play.
“I’m going to make you my slut,”
Why do I love this?
