The next morning, I woke up aching in the most sinful way. Damien’s c*m had dried on my thighs overnight, a sticky reminder of how thoroughly he had ruined me in that closet. Every time I moved, I felt the soreness between my legs, the delicious stretch from his thick c**k and the way he had f****d me like a man possessed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even as I showered, my fingers kept drifting between my thighs, replaying the way his voice had sounded when he growled filthy things in my ear. The way he had devoured my p***y like he owned it. The way he had filled me so deep I could still feel him. I had to try to fix this.
Ethan was still in bed when I slipped back into our room wearing nothing but a sheer black lingerie set I had bought months ago, hoping to spark something in
