Our bubble. Connected.I roll my thumb around the sensitive skin between his thumb and forefinger. Feel him shudder. The same way I do when that web is...pressed to my throat, tightening as he claims me. Takes me over. Pins me to the bed or the wall or wherever the fuck we happen to be, panties yanked aside, raging cock splitting me without mercy, relentlessly plundering my needy pussy as I gasp for air.He knows the exact pressure, the perfect grip that sets me off. Enough that panics me. Excites. ‘It doesn’t matter. And he’s a cop, we don’t kill cops.’ His jaw clicked audibly. ‘I always wondered where you went, what you did the rest of your life. You always get mixed up with cops?’ ‘Hey lay off. I thought he ran a fucking garage, for chrissakes. I just found out about the money and I just found out about the penchant for law enforcement. I already feel like an idiot, I don’t need your criticism.’ After that tirade we lapsed into silence and Marcus drove me to the garage. He probably. More

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