The first thing I register when consciousness creeps back is heat. Thick, heavy, living heat wrapped around me from behind. Caleb’s arm is slung possessively over my waist, palm flat against my lower belly like he’s already staking claim even in sleep. His thigh is jammed between mine, pressing right up against my still-swollen p***y, and every tiny shift of his body drags coarse hair across my sensitive c**t.
I’m sore everywhere—deliciously, obscenely sore. My inner thighs are sticky with dried c*m from last night. My a*s cheeks burn faintly from his palm prints. My throat feels raw in the best way, a dull ache that reminds me exactly how many times his fingers wrapped around it while he f****d the breath out of me.
Sunlight is already sneaking through the slats of his bedroom blinds, p
