Desperately try to twist your head free and beg through gasps when she lifts slightly, hoping to reason with her or buy time.

Jenna summons every scrap of willpower, twisting her neck side to side against the vise of Rachel’s thighs, gulping precious air whenever the ex shifts even an inch. “Rachel—please—stop—this isn’t you,” she gasps out in broken pleas between suffocating presses, mascara streaking down her cheeks as tears mix with the slick coating her face. Her voice cracks, raw and ****, trying to appeal to whatever remnant of humanity might linger in the woman who once loved the same man. Rachel pauses mid-grind, hovering just high enough for Jenna to draw ragged breaths, her expression a cruel mix of amusement and contempt. “Oh, sweetie,” she coos, fingers tightening in Jenna’s hair to yank her head back into position. “You think begging makes this hotter? It does.” She drops down again harder, smothering the next words into muffled whimpers, thighs squeezing until spots dance in Jenna’s vision.

Rachel rocks slowly now, savoring the control, one hand sliding down to roughly palm Jenna’s breast through the ruined wedding lace. “Your perfect little life—stolen right out from under him—and you’re still trying to talk your way out?” She laughs low, grinding her clit against Jenna’s nose with deliberate cruelty. Jenna’s struggles weaken, lungs burning, body trembling as unwanted heat coils tighter in her core despite the terror. Rachel finally lifts again, just enough. “Say it louder, bride. Beg me to stop… or beg me to keep going. Either way, your mouth’s mine tonight.” The choice hangs in the heavy air, Jenna’s sobs echoing softly as Rachel waits, dripping and impatient.