The text came while Eli was still inside me.
Night. Grant’s bed. My dress on the chair. The door open the way I had left it, which was the answer he had asked for. Eli had eaten me until I was shaking — tongue on my c**t, fingers in me, my thighs over his shoulders, his name a mess in the pillow — then he had pushed in and f****d me slow, deep, like he had all of Sunday and none of the guilt. I was on my back. Legs around him. Full. Close. The sheet Grant had bought was already ruined under my ass.
My phone lit on the nightstand.
Grant: Landed early. In the cab. Twenty minutes. Don’t wait up if you’re tired.
Eli read it over my shoulder. He didn’t pull out.
He stayed buried to the hilt, c**k twitching inside me, one hand braced by my head, the other still on my hip where the bruise fr
