Daniella was on lying on her back on the cold, hard floor of her room in the mental institution. Her mouth was wide open, tears in her eyes, doing her best to keep from gagging on the cock pounding her throat from the Alpha.
She loved it, she loved being used. Her father, Daniel Theresa, sending her to this hospital was the best thing to happen to her.
Daniella's throat constricted involuntarily as the Alpha's hips snapped forward, forcing another inch down her windpipe. Her fingers scrabbled against the sterile floor tiles, leaving faint smears where sweat met polished surface. Tears blurred her vision, not from pain, though her jaw ached, but from the raw, shameful thrill coiling low in her belly. The sharp scent of antiseptic couldn't mask the musk of him, thick and primal. She focused on the rhythmic grunts above her, the vibration traveling through her skull.
