Sophie knelt slowly on the dining room floor, her knees sinking into the soft rug that cushioned the hardwood beneath. The room felt oppressively intimate, the chandelier's warm light bathing her naked body in a golden hue, highlighting the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips. Mark's sleeping form loomed just feet away, his head lolled on the table, breaths deep and even, oblivious to the depravity unfolding in his own home. Sophie's heart raced, a cocktail of shame, anger, and that treacherous spark of arousal igniting despite herself, her pussy already slick from the humiliation, her nipples aching in the cool air.
Devon watched her with hooded eyes, his smirk a wicked curve as he spread his legs wider in the chair, inviting her closer. "That's it, Sophie," he murmured, his voice low and commanding, thick with lust. "On your knees like the good little slut you are."
