Nothing (for now)

Emma’s eyes stayed locked on Trevor. She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Her bottom lip trembled and her entire body was coiled like a spring.

“Mark…” she whispered, voice thin and trembling, “he’s seen everything. He’s seen every part of my body…”

She didn’t look at Mark. She simply reached blindly towards him, unzipping his jeans with quick, tense fingers. His cock sprang free thick, already rock-hard. She wrapped her hand around the tip and immediately dragged it downward with a rough, deliberate pull.

Mark winced at the **** of it… but said nothing. He understood. She wasn’t asking permission; she needed this. Needed control. He let her take it.

Emma kept her eyes on Trevor as she pumped Mark’s shaft hard and fast, her grip almost bruising. Trevor flicked ash from his cigarette and lifted the photos again, smirking at them as though they were a private joke he intended to share with the rest of the world.

Seconds passed in a haze of shame and burning arousal.

In a hoarse breath Mark whispered, “Y-you were wearing an eye mask in the pictures… h-he might not know it was you.”

Emma didn’t answer. Her hand didn’t even slow… but her fingers tightened slightly. Mark groaned. She kept pumping him with ruthless determination — as though she could squeeze the fear out of herself via his cock.

Trevor stubbed out his cigarette, tucked the envelope beneath his arm and casually headed toward the supermarket entrance.

Only when he finally disappeared through the automatic doors did Emma’s grip loosen. She released Mark’s cock and sat back, her breathing ragged.

Mark started to tuck himself away with a shaky hand.

Emma turned her head slowly and fixed him with a dark, warning glare.

“I didn’t say put it away,” she muttered, voice sharp and low. “If I’m exposed… I want you to be exposed too.”

Mark stopped immediately, chest rising and falling under his coat. His cock, still wet from her grip, throbbed openly in the cold air of the car.

The drive home was silent, the kind of silence filled with everything that couldn’t be spoken. Mark gripped the steering wheel, painfully aware of the way his erection stood out, pointing straight up from his unzipped jeans. Emma stared out of the window, legs pressed tightly together, lips slightly parted and her breath fogging the glass.

When they pulled into the driveway, Mark hurried from the car, practically stumbling as he tried to cover his still-hard prick with one hand. Emma walked behind him at a measured pace, predator calm, watching him fumble with the keys.

The moment the front door closed, she was on him.

Her hand slammed against his chest, pinning him to the hallway wall. Their mouths crashed together in a messy, **** kiss. Her fingers wrapped around his cock again and guided it against the damp heat between her legs as she pushed herself onto him.

There was no tenderness. No hesitation.

She used his cock like it belonged to her, grinding and rolling her hips in raw, frantic movements, moaning into his mouth as her nails raked down his shoulders. His trousers were still around his thighs. Her dress was still on. She didn’t bother undressing; she just hauled her skirt higher and thrust herself down harder.

Mark groaned into her throat as her cunt clenched around him, wet, tight, relentless. She fucked him roughly, slamming her hips against his with a kind of furious need. He tried to kiss her neck but she grabbed his hair and held him in place, breathing hot against his cheek as she whispered, “Don’t you dare come until I say.”

Hard thrusts. Wet slaps. A growl in the back of her throat.

The humiliation in the car park still burned brightly inside her, but it had turned into something molten and unstoppable.

Mark’s knees trembled. The hallway echoed with the obscene sounds of skin on skin. And Emma rode him like she might break him in half, refusing to stop until she had wrung every last drop of shame and arousal from both of them.