What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Ariana Grande - we can't be friends (wait for your love.)
~
MR. ASH WALKS STEALTHILY towards the foot of the bed, standing in the middle of my widely spread legs and gazing down at me with an indecipherable expression. I can't see him properly because the room is dark, but I can make out his wonderfully cut-out silhouette.
His dick looks as hard as it can get because I had him in my mouth few minutes ago, but he hasn't touched me or made an attempt to stick it in me like I whole-heartedly desire right now.
"Can I touch myself now?" I bite out impatiently, the cool air of the air conditioner nipping at my clit and making me shiver in euphoria. If you don't want to touch me just yet, I can at least keep myself busy with my fingers.
He does not reply me, and since I can't really see him or his expression, the silence gets severely annoying; so I flip him off mentally, snaking my hands all over my breasts and taking one south, directly over my aching clit.
Before I can get off though, the bed dips in-between my legs and his hand grabs mine angrily; his warmth causes tingles to shoot up my spine directly from my leaking core as his other hand grabs my other one on my boob, before he drags the both of them upwards, above my head and pins them together with one of his.
His body is now on top of mine and his dick is rubbing tiny trails of semen all over my inner thigh as he moves.
The smell of something musky invades my nostrils, and then I feel it: lace being wrapped around my hands. He's tied me up with my own undies, and it's a very strong knot.
"Mr. Ash, untie me. I want to..."
Smack! against my wet pussy shuts me the fuck up. Jesus Christ. It's a very harsh, very wet slap and the sound resonates in the eerily quiet room, along with the echo of my cry.
My hands are tied above me, so all I can really do to alleviate the bitter-sweet sensation is thrash in his hold, sob and rock my hips .
"Call me Mr. Ash again, Alaina." He dares me.
I zip my mouth shut, mentally chanting his name, Davian, over and over in my head so I don't make another mistake because God, that slap hurt.
He leans off my body and the cold from the AC pricks at my sensitive skin, making my nipples rock hard and stroking my aching clit until the point I choke out a hiss in painful pleasure.
The needle-like pricking sensation coming from my pussy is immediately soothed however, when I feel his warm tongue swipe across my clit.
