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... arm blur of chatter and clinking mugs—but he was a specter in it, hunched at the corner table, latte cold, Aiko's empty chair a raw gash in his chest. Rain streaked the windows, a faint drizzle smearing the busy roads outside, but inside, his world smoldered—gutted, jagged, torn open by the video still searing his skull. Aiko—his Aiko—bent over that sink, sweater drenched and shoved up, cunt dripping as Riku fucked her hard, her hand muffling moans, ass bouncing red and slick, cum oozing down he ...

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