The bass thumped through the club, sweat-slick bodies grinding under strobe lights. My girl Jenna nudged me, her eyes wide. "Dude, that mountain behind you is getting handsy." I felt it then—a large, hot palm sliding over my ass, gripping my jeans. I spun, facing a wall of muscle. Towering over me, he had a jaw like granite and eyes that devoured me.

"Not interested, man," I said, stepping back.

He leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. "That tight little female body of yours is begging for it. I’m gonna fuck you senseless." His words sent a shock through my gut, but I shook my head. "No means no."

As we left later, he caught my arm, his voice a dark promise. "You’ll be begging for this dick by midnight."

Drunk and dizzy, I stumbled outside for air. He emerged from the shadows, all power and menace. Before I could protest, his hand fisted in my hair, forcing me to my knees on the cold concrete. "Open," he growled, unzipping his jeans. His cock sprang out—thick, veiny, and already leaking pre-cum. He shoved it past my lips, the salty taste hitting my tongue as he thrust deep into my throat. I gagged, tears welling, as he used my mouth, his balls slapping my chin.

He hauled me to his apartment, a sparse room that smelled of musk. "Time for a makeover, sweetheart," he sneered, stripping me. He dressed me in a lace teddy, a silky black