The guilt from the morning f**k had already faded by lunch. Phillip and I barely left the couch. We ate cold pizza straight from the box, half-naked, laughing at nothing. Every time our eyes met, the air crackled again. We both knew we were playing with fire, but neither of us wanted to put it out.
By early afternoon the house felt too quiet, too full of secrets. Phillip stood up, stretched, his body still marked from my nails. He looked at me sprawled on the cushions, legs open, his c*m still dried on my inner thighs, and something dark flashed in his eyes.
“Upstairs,” he said, voice low. Not a question.
I followed him to Lila’s bedroom. The door clicked shut behind us. He didn’t bother with lights. The curtains were half-drawn, soft gray afternoon spilling across the bed.
He pushed m
