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Chapter 22 by Kristobal Kristobal

Where does this go?

Escalation

Emily stiffened, breath catching in her throat. She turned her face away from him, trying to press her cheek into the cool tile, but Michael’s body followed, closing the last inches between them. His chest brushed hers, hot skin through his shirt against her bare breasts, nipples grazing fabric in sharp, unbearable contact.

Her gasp was tiny, involuntary.

Michael’s hand lifted, slow, deliberate. His fingers grazed her forearm, then pried it away from where she’d been clutching at her chest. Her strength faltered against his grip—his hand was firm, practiced, and she was trembling too hard to resist.

Her breasts spilled free under his gaze.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes raking over her flushed skin, the swollen peaks of her nipples, the raw redness from the run and her shame. “You were hiding these?”

“Stop,” Emily whispered, her voice hoarse.

But he didn’t.

His other hand caught her hip, fingers digging into the waistband of her shorts, holding her pinned to the wall. His thumb dragged just above the band, over damp skin, pressing into the heat of her stomach.

Emily’s thighs clamped together, her breath sharp. She tried to twist away, but his grip only tightened. The locked door behind him cut off escape, his weight kept her pinned.

“You ran in here to get away from everyone,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Now it’s just you and me. No one else has to see.”

Her nails scraped the wall, searching for purchase. “Please—”

Michael’s head dipped. His mouth caught her nipple, hot and sudden, teeth grazing hard enough to make her **** out a cry. His tongue dragged over the sensitive tip, rough and greedy, sucking until her knees buckled.

And then—

A thin bead of milk touched his tongue.

He pulled back, blinking, then grinned wide, wet lips glistening. “Holy shit. You really are a MILF.” His voice dropped low, filthy. “Leaking for me already?”

Emily’s face flamed red, humiliation searing through her chest. She shook her head violently, her arms trembling as she tried to push him back, but Michael only leaned in again. His mouth latched onto her breast harder this time, tongue circling the swollen nipple, sucking until another spurt beaded out against his lips.

He groaned, loud and unashamed. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Her legs wobbled, shame and unwanted sensitivity sending sparks through her body. The raw ache of her nipples made every suck unbearable, her body betraying her even as she tried to twist away.

Michael’s hand slid lower, fingers slipping under the waistband of her shorts, knuckles grazing the damp heat between her thighs.

“Bet this pussy’s just as ready to feed me too.”

Emily gasped, jerking, but he only pressed harder against her, pinning her hip to the wall with one hand while the other dragged deeper inside.

Does this go further?

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