The house was pitch dark at 2 a.m., only faint moonlight slipping through the blinds in thin silver lines. Crickets had quieted outside; the only sound was the low tick of the hallway clock and her bare feet padding soft across the hardwood. Her body still buzzed—skin hot, p***y tender and aching in that sweet, used way that kept her wide awake. Every step reminded her: the sting on her ass from his hand, the stretch of his c**k, the sticky warmth he’d rubbed into her back like a brand.
She didn’t knock. Just pushed his bedroom door open. Hinges creaked low. Moonlight caught the shape of him—propped against the headboard, pillows bunched behind his shoulders, white sheet pooled low on his hips. One big hand moved lazy under the fabric—slow strokes up and down his c**k. He was already hard
