For now

Emily’s body slumped against the counter, breasts pressed to the cold porcelain, her thighs slick with sweat and his cum. Her pussy twitched weakly, leaking from the **** orgasm, every aftershock another cruel reminder of what he’d done to her.

Michael groaned one last time, then finally pulled out. The sudden emptiness made her knees buckle. She gasped, humiliated, as thick cum spilled freely from her hole, dripping down the insides of her trembling thighs to the tile floor.

Michael tucked himself away, but his eyes never left her. His grin was dark and triumphant.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “Dripping like a slut. Nobody’s gonna believe you didn’t love every second.”

Emily shook her head, cheeks burning, lips trembling with sobs she couldn’t hold in.

Then—click.

Her head jerked up. He was holding his phone. The screen lit his face, thumb tapping quick. Another click. And another. He was taking pictures.

“Stop—please, don’t—” she begged, twisting, but he pinned her shoulder to the counter and snapped more, her bare ass glistening, his cum smeared between her thighs.

“Oh, I’m keeping these,” Michael said casually, scrolling to admire them. “But not just this.”

His eyes caught on her armband wallet tossed by the sink. He snatched it up and pulled it open. Her driver’s license gleamed behind the plastic slot.

“Well, well…” He flipped it over, snapped several shots front and back. Her name, her address, her photo—all captured. “Emily Davenport. Now I know exactly where to find you.”

Her stomach dropped.

Michael smirked and dug further. Folded bills. He pocketed them without hesitation. “Thanks for the tip, MILF.”

Then he plucked out her phone. Pink case, faint screen glow. He held it out. “Unlock it.”

Her trembling thumb pressed the scanner. The phone opened.

Michael’s grin widened. He swiped into her photos, scrolling fast. Family shots. The baby. A few mirror selfies—some recent, some from before Chloe. He started sending them one by one, texting them straight to his own number. Each buzz from his phone made Emily’s heart drop lower.

When he was done, he opened his own contact card on her phone and typed in the name: Breeder.

He tilted it toward her face. “That’s me. You might wanna change it before anyone sees your phone. Wouldn’t want your husband thinking you’ve been having an affair.”

Emily’s stomach twisted in horror. It wasn’t just ****—he was setting her up.

Michael slipped the license and the phone back into the armband wallet, but the cash went into his pocket, and the photos—the damning photos—were safe on his device.

He gave her ass a final slap and stepped to the door.

“There. Now I know you’ll pick up when I call. Because if you don’t…” He leaned in close, his breath hot and cruel against her ear. “…I’ll send these pictures to anyone I want. Or maybe I’ll just show up at your house. See how your family likes them.”

The lock clicked open, and he walked away—leaving Emily trembling, dripping, and broken, terrified of the hold he now had over her.