She’s red-lipped, right-wing... and about to be ruined 💋

April 25, 2025

Hey babes,

I’ve got something filthy and delicious coming your way…

✨ The Caitlin Cross Chronicles ✨ is my brand-new, unapologetically steamy series following America’s most conservative influencer as she spirals from preachy to absolutely profane. Think:
📢 Political satire meets free use kink
💦 Public purity, private depravity
🔥 Multiple partners, no morals, and one hell of a transformation arc

It all starts with Make America Gape Again, where a van breakdown leads Caitlin straight into the hands of three very unholy Black men… and continues with Guns, God and Gangbangs, where she fully surrenders to her darkest desires.

GET IT HERE

This series is for you if you love:
✅ Repressed girls getting ruined
✅ Corrupting the conservative
✅ Rough taboo heat with a twist of commentary

Caitlin’s story is messy, kinky, politically incorrect, and totally irresistible—and I cannot wait for you to meet her.

Stay tuned for a little excerpt below.

xoxo,
Gemma 💋


His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. I should be scared, I think, but instead, my body is betraying me, heat pooling low in my belly. Malik’s eyes dig into mine, and there’s no escape from the raw, unapologetic hunger in them. He’s not asking. He’s taking. I want him to take me so badly that it aches.

“Let’s get comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. His other hand slides down my side, catching the hem of my tiny white tank top. With one smooth motion, he tugs it up and over my head, leaving me exposed. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples instantly harden. He cups each of my tits thoughtfully, as if weighing them up, then releases, taking a step back to look at me. The cool air of the garage brushes against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his body, which I can feel radiating off him.

“Hey, Miss America? Drop the shorts,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. My hands tremble as I reach for the waistband, but I don’t hesitate. I push them straight down past my hips, letting them pool at my feet. I step out of them feeling bare, vulnerable, but more free than I have in years.

Malik takes me in, his eyes raking over me so slowly it’s agonising. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so horny. He’s looking at me like a lion watches an antelope. Taking his time, surveying every single inch of me, knowing he can devour and destroy me in an instant. “Now, turn around,” he orders softly. I obey, my heart pounding as I face away from him. His hand brushes against my lower back, and I flinch at the contact, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers trail down to the curve of my ass, then lower still, slipping between my thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he commands, as he taps between my thighs impatiently, like a trigger waiting to be pulled.

My breath hitches. I do as I’m told, feeling my cheeks burn with a mix of shame and arousal. His fingers slip my panties to the side, I’m already wet, my lips swollen. His rough digits probe at my entrance, teasing my folds before slipping inside. I gasp at the intrusion, and clench around him instinctively.

“Nice,” he murmurs, his voice dark with satisfaction. “You’re tight. But you’ll loosen up. You’ll have to.”