CHATER 8
ISLA
They’ll think you’re hiding something.
“I am.”
Exactly.
The train lurched forward, and I swayed. The motion made the damp heat between my thighs slosh — yes, slosh — and I bit back a tiny gasp.
Every sway of the train is a reminder you’re still full.
My face burned.
A man in a suit stepped in at the next stop, ending up right in front of me. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. His thigh brushed mine when the train shifted again.
They can smell you.
“No—”
You reek of it. Of me.
I pressed my knees tighter together.
You’ll drip on the floor.
“Stop.”
You like imagining it.
The man shifted again, and this time the contact lasted longer. I stared down at my shoes, heart pounding.
Open your thighs a little.
“No.”
You want him to feel how warm you are.
“I
