I woke up to sunlight slicing through the half-open blinds and the heavy, possessive weight of Caleb’s arm draped across my waist. His chest was pressed to my back, one thick thigh wedged between mine, his morning erection already hot and insistent against the curve of my a*s. We were both still n***d from the night before—sheets tangled, the room smelling like s*x, sweat, and his cedar cologne mixed with my coconut lotion.
My body ached in the best way: bruises blooming on my hips where his fingers had dug in, faint handprints on my a*s, a delicious soreness deep inside from how many times he’d f****d me raw. My throat felt raw too—from his hand, from his c**k, from the way I’d begged and screamed his name until my voice cracked.
I shifted slightly, grinding back against him on instinct
