Her voice cut through the room, a command, not a request. "Tрахнуть меня. Now." Anya stood there, all coiled power in a tight black dress, her chin high, eyes daring me to disobey. This wasn't the shy girl from class; this was a queen demanding tribute.

My dick jumped to attention, straining against my jeans. "You giving orders now?" I growled, stepping closer. The air crackled.

"I'm stating facts," she smirked, running a manicured nail down my chest. "I own this. I own you tonight. Now, get on your knees and worship what you're about to fuck."

Fuck. The sheer arrogance made me throb. I dropped, my hands gripping her thighs through the silky fabric. I nuzzled her pussy through her panties, breathing in her musky, sweet scent. "This what you want worshipped?" I mumbled against her heat.

"Less talking," she commanded, tangling her fingers in my hair. "More tongue."

I yanked her panties aside, revealing her slick, pink cunt. Her pussy lips were already swollen, glistening. I didn't tease. I dove in, my tongue flattening against her clit. She gasped, her hips bucking, that proud facade cracking for a second. I ate her out like a man starved, slurping up her juices, circling her tight little hole with my thumb.

"Yesss," she hissed, grinding her wet slit against my face. "Just like that. Your tongue is mine."

After I had her trembling on the edge, she shoved me back. "Enough. I want your cock. I want to feel it stretch me open."