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She was still tied up from earlier. Sweet, squirmy Angela August, ropes pressing into her skin and that same flushed look in her eyes. She'd already given me her body, now I wanted her throat.

This scene picks up the pace. No more quiet restraint, this is hunger. I grab her by the hair and slide my cock past her lips. She moans, but I don't let her settle. I want her messy. I want her gasping. And she gives me everything I ask for.

Angela gags and drools like a good girl, tongue out, throat open, dripping wet all over her own chest. The camera catches every filthy angle: spit clinging to my long, stilletto-tip nails, her mascara running just a little, her tied body jerking with every thrust. She's overwhelmed, but she never says no. She asked for this. She begged for it.

There's real chemistry here—charged, playful, deviant. I use her like she wanted to be used, and by the end she's a spit-soaked mess. Just how I like them.