I woke up face down in the dirt.
My back ached. My thighs burned. My ass—wrecked. The dull throb of his knot leaving me sometime in the night still pulsed low in my spine. Every part of me felt bruised, stretched, owned.
And he was still there.
Behind me.
Pressed to my back like a furnace, c**k still hard, knot swollen again, dragging along my ruined hole like he’d been waiting for me to stir so he could slip back in.
“You’re awake,” he said like it meant something.
I tried to roll over, but he didn’t let me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“My car,” I muttered, voice wrecked. “My clothes.”
“No.” He bent over me, breath hot on my neck. “You don’t need them.”
“You—f**k—you’ve had me twice already—”
“And I’ll have you again.”
His fingers trailed between my legs, right over the
