Vikram hauled Shanya into his master bathroom, the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror covering the entire wall. He positioned her right in front of it, forcing her to stare at her own reflection — flushed face, swollen lips, cum already leaking down her thighs from the previous rounds.
“Hands on the counter, slut. Arch that back and watch,” he snarled, yanking her hips back. “You’re going to see exactly what a filthy 22-year-old fuck toy looks like when her much older Daddy ruins her.”
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