The dining table was set for breakfast—pancakes, fresh fruit, and steaming coffee filled the air with a deceptively innocent warmth.
Emily sat beside me, her leg occasionally brushing mine as she chatted about her plans for the day, completely unaware of the filthy game unfolding right in front of her.
Jennifer sat opposite me, her legs crossed, her yoga pants clinging to the curves of her thighs. The memory of her wrecked asshole, still dripping with my cum, sent a jolt of lust straight to my cock.
I shifted in my seat, my eyes locked on Jennifer's pussy, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of her pants. The heat radiating from her was palpable, her thighs pressed together as if she could hide the ache I knew was throbbing inside her.
I grinned, my foot sliding under the table, my toes brushing against her calf. Jennifer's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. Her eyes darted to mine, wide with warning—and need.
