Old Savannah, late July.
Boutique hotel, balcony doors open to the midnight whirring of cicadas.
We’d taken a step back, sharing a bed but nothing further. Until tonight…

Smearing a bloody handprint onto the crisp white sheets, I hover over her and sink my cock into her iron-scented snatch.

“C-Can I call you my fuckdoll?”

“You can call me that.”

“You’re such a hot fuck,” I rasp, then panic. “But you’re more than that!”

She stops me. “I can be just that, for tonight.”

A few more thrusts, then—

“Let’s turn you over, fuckdoll. I’m finally gonna eat your ass.”