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Then the other.

Back and forth until her skin was marked with spit and precum.

Until she panted.

Until I was a split second away from spraying her face with cum.

“Wrong answer. Try again.” I said when I was sure I had her full attention, my breath hard and heavy.

Her eyes blazed. “You.”

“Say it properly.”

“You.”

“Again. Louder.” I barked.

Her voice cracked. “You.”

I pulled her back onto my cock, deeper this time, until her nose pressed against my pelvis, her breath teasing the hair there.

“That’s right,” I growled, holding her there. “You’re mine. Every inch of you. This mouth. This body. All of you.”

I fucked her throat again, harder now, chasing the release that was building.

She gagged, tears streaming down her face, but she took it.

All of it.

“And if I ever—” thrust “—see another man—” thrust “—touch you again⁠—”

I didn’t finish the sentence.

Didn’t need to.

The threat hung in the air, as real as the hand in her hair.

She gave me a microscopic nod, and it triggered my release.

“Swallow,” I ordered, holding her head in place. “Every fucking drop.”

She did.

I kept her there until the last spasm faded and my cock slipped from her lips.

She collapsed back against the seat, coughing, gasping.

Her face was tear-streaked. Lips swollen. Chin and cheeks wet with spit and cum.

Destroyed. Mine.

I tucked myself away, buckled my belt.

Watched her try to compose herself.

“Clean yourself up,” I said, my voice flat now. Controlled.

She wiped her face with shaking hands.