Phoebe’s POV
He pushed my hair away from my face with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing my cheek while my chest heaved like I’d run a marathon. If my p***y had a mind of its own it would have been weeping from pure joy at the good f*****g we’d just had. His thick c**k had scratched the itch I’d been carrying for months, years, really, but it had also cracked something open inside me. I was a leaking mess, his c*m already slipping out around his shaft, coating my inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets in slow, obscene trails. I wanted more. I needed more. But we weren’t kids anymore. Damon was in his late thirties, same as Jeremy, and Jeremy always said he had to wait a few minutes before round two.
That turned out to be a lie.
“Ready for round two?” Damon suddenly said.
My eyes sna
