Jordan Takes Her Due

Jordan doesn’t waste time. She walks in, drops to her knees and takes Dean’s cock down her throat like she’s proving something. He grabs her hair, pushes deeper, and her eyes water but she keeps going. Dean’s in charge now. He hauls her up, bends her over the bench and ties her wrists tight behind her back. Rope cuts into pale skin. He forces the ball between her teeth, buckles it fast, and Jordan’s moans turn wet and muffled. She fights the restraints at first, then the fight melts into need. Dean lines up behind her, grips her hips and thrusts in hard. Every stroke slams her forward. He grabs a fistful of blonde hair, pulls her head back so she has to take it looking at him. Jordan’s body strains, sweat shining on her back, but she pushes back to meet every thrust. Dean keeps her pinned, one hand around her throat now, the other working her clit until she shakes. She comes once, loud through the gag, then again when he doesn’t stop. He finishes deep, hips jerking, then steps away. Jordan stays bent and bound, chest heaving, drool at the corner of her mouth, eyes half-lidded and still hungry.