Hailey’s POV
The guest room door clicked shut behind us with a soft finality that felt louder than it should.
My legs were still unsteady—thighs slick, core still fluttering with the aftershocks of Roy inside me, stretching me, owning me against that locked door until I’d sobbed his name into his palm. My costume was ruined: one strap torn, lace stretched and damp, pasties long gone somewhere on the carpet. Roy’s black t-shirt clung to his chest with fresh sweat, his trousers zipped but belt still unbuckled, hair wrecked from my fingers.
He kept one possessive arm around my waist as we stepped back into the hallway, like he knew exactly how close I was to collapsing.
The party hadn’t slowed down.
Music throbbed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Bodies still writhed in every c
