It was the fifth time he’d checked her that afternoon. She’d have found it frustrating if his hands hadn’t been so… his middle finger pressed against her, deep inside, and she moaned, the sound hanging in the air like a bad smell.
His free hand came down hard on her left arse cheek, the bark of the sound clearing the air.
“Keep quiet. I won’t tell you again.” His finger pressed again, emphasising the point, before he finally pulled out. She stifled a whine of frustration.
All afternoon, like this. Every forty minutes or so, he’d pin her up against the wall, check her, and then leave her like that, empty and desperate. Just about when she had started to calm down, been able to tear her thoughts away from all of those… things… she was thinking about, he’d do it all over again, set things back in motion.
It was exhausting. She was adoring it.