She shattered, squirting messily around his shaft, juices soaking his balls and the bedding beneath them. Jake didn't stop. He manhandled her onto all fours, then twisted her into a side-lying position—her top leg hooked high over his shoulder in a deep, twisting variation that let him grind against her G-spot with every brutal thrust.
Chelsea's face was pressed into the pillow, drool slipping from her open mouth as she wailed.
Eskar could hear it all—the rhythmic wet pounding; Chelsea's muffled screams; and Jake's low, filthy growls of "Take it, you dirty auntie slut" and "Your cunt belongs to me." His stomach churned with humiliated jealousy. He wanted to walk away. He wanted to die. He stayed rooted exactly where he was.
