Just before midnight on Friday, Bethany Croft was in a stranger’s bedroom, the moonlight blaring onto the carpet at her feet. She’d already found the money she’d come for, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave this place. She felt so wired by this break-in! God, what a rush! Being in a stranger’s house with no permission except her own made Bethany’s heart thump fast and her body feel electric. Her skin ached to be touched, her nipples were hard with rebellion, and her pussy—her criminal pussy—was thirsting for a feel.

That’s why she sat back on the cool, suede sofa, unbuttoned her jeans, and thrust her fingers deep inside.

Out in the car, Tiger was waiting for her. Tiger, who’d be a bad match for her, but who she’d always fancied. She imagined he was here, naked, on top of her, thrusting into her, his cock hard from the high of the taboo. While her imagination played with this scenario, her clit pulsed. Only a few minutes before, she’d thought she heard the click of the front door, and then she’d believed she’d either been caught red-handed or else Tiger had come to join her. She’d checked the hallway carefully, terrified of discovery. Thankfully, she’d found no one.

Still, if it had been Tiger coming to find her, she’d have jumped his bones! That’s how crazily horny she felt.

She circled her clit faster and played with a nipple through her sleeveless top. “Fuck,” she gasped out. Never had solo sex felt this good. The heat was rising inside her pussy, forcing its way deeper and deeper, making the delicious tension tighten inside. The room around her seemed to grow more vivid, the giant sunflowers in the framed print opposite expanding as if about to combust, and the leather armchair by the fireplace gleamed in a shard of moonlight, as if licked by a giant beast.

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