Yuna made a sound around his cock that was not a moan. It was not a sob. It was something broken between the two—high and wet and involuntary—and her eyes rolled slightly as the logic she was trying to build came apart at the seam.
She was trying to think. She was genuinely trying to think.
'This is wrong. This is—Gareth—she's been with Gareth for—they were going to be married in—'
Her pussy clenched around nothing, and a thin stream of slick ran down her inner thigh to the floor.
The logic-part of Yuna's brain—the part that had spent years building arguments for staying, for being patient, for believing Gareth would eventually look at her properly—that part opened its mouth to respond.
The rest of her didn't wait.
Her knees folded.
Not from being pushed. From wanting to.
