The morning after the toy room felt like my body was still humming with the memory of it. I woke up sore in the best and most embarrassing way. There were fresh, very visible hickeys on my neck and chest, dark purple marks that no amount of makeup or high collars was going to hide completely. My wrists and ankles had faint red lines from the silk ropes, and every time I moved, I felt the deep ache between my legs where Damien had claimed me so thoroughly.
I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and stared at myself. The marks looked possessive and obvious, like a brand. Damien came up behind me, still shirtless, and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed the biggest hickey on my neck, right where it would be impossible to miss.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my skin.
I gav
