I cut myself off.
Holy f**k.
Nope.
Not finishing that sentence.
Damon chuckled behind me, his breath hot on my shoulder like he knew. Like he could taste the panic rising up my spine and wanted to smear it between my thighs with his next lazy thrust.
“You’re overthinking again,” my mum said, like I didn’t have half a liter of his c*m dripping out of me and soaking into Tasha’s sheets. “You always do this. You spiral. You talk too much. You catastrophize. Just breathe. We’ve thought about it. We’ve prayed about it. This is what’s best for you.”
Best for me?
Best for me?
No. Best for me would be teleporting back to my own bed, erasing the last seventy-two hours, and surgically removing every memory I had of Damon Thornvale’s tongue between my legs while I called him Daddy like a depr
