The thunder rolled low and lazy outside, like it was in on the secret, and I was already soaked—literally and figuratively—before the front door even whispered open. I’d been lying there in the dark for what felt like hours, naked under Jake’s sheets, one hand lazily circling my c**t because the ache had gotten too loud to ignore.
A whole week without him. Seven days of texts that started sweet and ended filthy, voice notes where I could hear him stroking himself in some sterile hotel room, promising me he’d wreck me the second he got home.
My body remembered every promise. My n*****s were tight little peaks against the cool cotton, and every time I shifted, the slick heat between my thighs made me bite my lip so I wouldn’t moan out loud like some desperate girl who couldn’t wait.
I w
