RING! RING!
Sky’s phone went off like a damn fire alarm.
She groaned, face buried in a pillow that still smelled like s*x and sin. Her legs were limp. Her thighs ached. Her body was wrecked, still glistening in sweat, c*m, and f*****g honey. Her hair was stuck to her face, and somewhere in the room, a vibrator lay dead from overuse like a fallen soldier.
The phone buzzed again. And again.
“Ugh,” Sky croaked, reaching blindly for it, her fingers fumbling across the nightstand, knocking over the candle, a bottle of lube, and—was that a condom wrapper stuck to her wrist?
Xavier:
I’ll be waiting at the place I sent. We’re picking your wedding dress. The driver’s five minutes away. Don’t be late.
Sky shot up like she’d been electrocuted.
“f**k!”
She looked around the bed, hell.
Gloria
