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Felt him spit on his dick.

Then he pushed in.

All that dick at once.

“Ooooh, shit.”

We both groaned.

He grabbed my hips and started beating that pussy up from the back. Nasty. Hard. That wet slapping filling the room.

“Yeah, baby, beat that shit up.”

“Fuck…damn…”

He reached around, ripped my shirt open, buttons popping, and grabbed my titties. Playing with my nipples while he slammed into me. Pinching. Rolling. Fucking me like he was mad at the pussy.

“Take this dick girl shit..”

“Xay—fuck—you so deep⁠—”

He moaned behind me. Low. Ugly.

“This pussy so wet…shit…”

For the next few minutes, Heather wasn’t on my fucking mind at all.

Just that motel chair rattling. My ass bouncing. Him ripping at my shirt, sucking on the side of my neck, pounding me.

“Cum in this pussy, baby.”

The second that shit left my mouth, I knew I had to be fucking crazy.

I could not have no more kids with this nigga.

Absolutely the fuck not.

But Xay fucked me so damn good every fucking time that somewhere between walking through the motel door and getting my clothes snatched off, my brain apparently shut the fuck down.

“Fuck, Ave, here it comes,” he groaned.

Shit.

And it was the hoe in me that enjoyed this.

Had to be.

Because I could have damn near any nigga I wanted. Shit, I was going out with Keith this weekend. A nigga who was single. A nigga who already wanted me back. A nigga I could actually go outside with without checking who the fuck might see us.

And here I was.

In a cheap-ass motel.

Getting fucked by my sister’s husband.

Again.

He groaned loud and slammed in deep.