No response. Sawyer pulled his fingers out slowly, a string of her arousal that was thick, pearly, and translucent. It was trailing down his knuckles, dripping onto the leather. Her pussy made a wet, sucking sound as his digits left her, as if reluctant to let go.His cock was agonizing. Hard, aching, straining against the confinement of his jeans—a painful, throbbing need that had nowhere to go. The tip was wet, the denim dark with pre-cum. His balls ached, drawn tight, demanding release. He could feel his pulse in his shaft, a hot, insistent beat that screamed for relief.He let out a curse, low and bitter, and ran his wet hand through his hair, the scent of her cunt clinging to his skin. He was in his forties, a man who'd had his fair share of women, who prided himself on control. And here he was, high and dry, his fingers still slick with her come, while she snored softly on his couch.He could wake her. He could take what he wanted because she had offered, she had begged, and s
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