The Life Ruiner 3

Jack's the luckiest slave alive—Goddess Richelle Ryan’s personal ATM and bill-pay bitch. She storms into the dungeon, her business skirt clinging to every curve, and slaps a stack of bills across his chest. He reaches for his wallet, but she stops him with a cold question: “Since when does an ATM machine have a wife?” His face burns. She grins and gives the order: get rid of the family. He doesn’t argue. He’s too far gone. She grabs his phone, swipes through every contact, and deletes them one by one while she plants her massive ass on his face. Her thick cheeks smother his mouth and nose, grinding slow and hard, the heat of her body soaking into his skin. Between wipes, she shoves her bare feet to his lips, making him kiss every toe. She lowers again, smothering him deeper, her skirt hiked, ass bare and slick against his tongue. Every lick, every desperate breath pulls him further under. Friends, family, future—none of it matters now. Only her ass, her feet, her voice telling him he’s nothing but a wallet and a tongue.