Chapter 7: What a Good Girl
Stacy's moan was muffled as Marco’s tongue delved deeper, lapping roughly at her sensitive flesh, his nose buried against her, the obscene wet sounds echoing in the suddenly quiet suite. Dylan watched Pete’s jaw tighten, a vein pulsing in his temple, before he pushed himself off the piano, his own thick cock jutting obscenely, the head slick and purple. "Enough," Dylan commanded, his voice low and thick, and Marco instantly pulled back, leaving Stacy gasping, her pussy glistening wetly under the chandelier light. Dylan hooked a hand under Stacy’s knee, spreading her wider, his eyes locked on Pete’s, a cruel smirk twisting his lips as he positioned himself between her trembling thighs. With a guttural groan, Dylan gripped his cock, his knuckles white, and jerked himself hard, thick ropes of hot cum erupting to splatter across Stacy’s flushed pussy lips and swollen clit, painting her smooth oussy white while Pete’s breath hitched in a choked gasp.
"Fuck this," Pete snarled, shoving Marco aside hard. He dropped to his knees, gripping Stacy's hips with bruising force, his eyes wild on Dylan's cum smeared across her pussy. "You're mine, Good Girl," he growled, burying his face between her legs, his tongue lapping roughly, hungrily at her clit and swallowing Dylan's spend mixed with her wetness. Dylan chuckled low, watching Pete claim her, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Taste it, Pete? That's your good girl ."