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Summary
Your hands shift to the plush below his waist, just above where you know he needs your touch the most. Billie’s hips jerk up almost immediately, chasing more of your pain and pleasure.
“Fuck, yeah, whatever you want,” Billie utters, one hand reaching up to wipe away the spit dribbling down his chin, never breaking eye contact with you in the process. His eyes are wide and his lashes are damp, nothing more than a stumbling baby deer caught in your headlights. “Please, baby.”