Every inch of her body screamed for more, the last shreds of logic dissolving into nothingness as primal, reckless desire took over.
And then he did it.
Greg turned his head to the right, locking eyes with the CCTV lens.
A slow, wicked smirk stretched across his lips.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he pulled out—agonizingly slow—until only the tip of his cock remained inside her.
And with one brutal, punishing thrust, he slammed back in.
Cammy screamed.
Greg only smiled.
Smiled at the camera.
Smiled at Duncan.
Because Duncan wasn't just watching.
He was being fucking destroyed.
Greg moved within her, each thrust smooth, effortless—she was so wet, so perfectly slick, that fucking her felt like a dream. A dangerously intoxicating dream.
His jaw clenched as he fought the raw pleasure threatening to consume him. He could already feel his own release coiling inside him, ready to explode, but he refused to give in.
Not yet.
