No words. Just footsteps across the tile, slow at first, then urgent. I sink to my knees without ceremony. Gunz frees his cock — cut, thick, already twitching. I take him deep, no hesitation, throat opening, saliva slicking every inch. His hands tighten the back of my head. Then he’s lifting me, turning me, bending me over the counter. Cold marble against my chest, ass in the air. He spits on his fingers, one, then two, pressing into me without warning. I gasp, arch, push back. He knows I’ve been waiting, craving this. The third finger scissoring, stretching, making me drip. He grabs my hips, slams in. I cry out, fingers clawing the counter. Stroke after ****** stroke, each one deeper, harder. He flips me onto the bed, legs over his shoulders, drilling into me deeper. Then spooned behind me, cock buried, hands around me. We're both sweating, trembling, lost in the filth of it. He pulls out, jerks himself fast, and comes — hot ropes across my back, my ass, marking me like territory.