I woke in his bed with his spend still tacky on the back of the T-shirt and the bag still on the stairs.
Morning did not come first. He did. Cole was already awake, sitting against the headboard, looking at me like the zipper had been dealt with and the inventory was not. The collar was still on. My throat remembered the foyer. My cunt and ass remembered the table. I was sore in a way that felt like a list.
“Shirt off. Tonight we finish the sentence on the cover. Mouth. This.” He put two fingers against my cunt through nothing, because I had never put anything back on. I was wet already. He felt it and his mouth didn’t change. “Then the last one again, in this bed, so you don’t confuse a door with a choice.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pulled me over his lap facing his feet. Not a spanking pose —
