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“Do you often dream about kissing and dry humping me, Lisichka?”
“You’re soaking wet for someone who doesn’t finger herself.” Thrust. “Your cunt is drenching my hand.” Thrust. “So messy, Lisichka.”
“I’m going nowhere with you.” I pant. “We’re already over.”
“Over?” He takes a step forward, trapping me against my car as a twitch lifts his lips. “We’re just getting started, Cecily.”
He releases my throat and reaches in his waistband, then pulls out his gun. The same gun I threw away earlier. “We’re not done.” He slides it in his mouth, licks it, and I gasp when he glides it between my inner thighs, over my folds, and then drives it inside my pussy.
