Al admires your dedication, but he sees right through you. Those late nights aren’t just for work – they’re a silent cry for a man who knows how to own you. He calls out your boyfriend’s incompetence, his hands sliding over your tense shoulders, melting your resistance. When he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his athletic abs, he doesn’t ask permission. He demands your gaze, your touch, your submission. Your phone buzzes with your boyfriend’s name, but Al smirks and hits "ignore."
"You’re mine now."
He guides your hand to his rock-hard cock, already slick with oil, and groans as you stroke him. "Feel that? That’s the throb of a man who deserves you." His voice drops to a gravelly whisper, commanding you to kneel. His uncut thickness fills your mouth, stretching your lips as he fucks your throat with possessive thrusts. "Swallow every drop," he growls, painting your face with his cum – a filthy symbol of your betrayal.
