Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
“Please!” I wailed. My sweaty forehead dropped against my stretched-out bicep. A quick glance up proved the handcuffs looped around the grab handle of his F-350 weren’t coming undone any time soon. “Please, let me suck your cock!” I begged again as I tugged against the metal, hugging my wrists. I’d been pulling against them so much that red lines were appearing where the cuffs rubbed against my delicate wrist bones.
“No.” His voice was cool, calm, and collected when it washed over my exposed throat. He nibbled my overheated skin slowly as if he had all the time in the world to explore my body with his fingers and mouth. The toes of my sneakers barely scratched the surface of the dirt road he’d stopped in the middle of. Someone could drive by at any minute while he had me half naked, and handcuffed, dangling and on display from the passenger side grab handle.
