My thighs clench involuntarily. I hate my body for it.
“I hope he made you drip,” Caleb murmurs, lips
brushing the shell of my ear.
“I hope you were so f*****g wet for him that it ran down your thighs, slick and messy, the way you always got for me when I talked filthy in your ear. I hope he licked it off you—tongue flat and greedy—before he flipped you over and took you from behind, gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise tomorrow. I hope he made you come so hard your whole body shook, p***y clenching around him like it was trying to keep him inside forever. I hope you screamed. I hope you begged.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me—really look. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, furious and starving all at once.
“Did he make you come like that?” he asks, quieter now, almost br
