I came back from the honeymoon with sand in my suitcase and Chloe’s face burned into my brain.
The entire trip, ten days in a private villa, ocean views, champagne at sunset, my new husband’s hands on me every night, I barely felt any of it.
Every time he kissed my neck I saw her reflection in the vanity mirror, cheeks red from my slaps, eyes glassy while I railed her.
Every time he slid inside me I remembered how she screamed my name, how her p***y clenched and squirted when I choked her.
I smiled for photos. I f****d him like a good wife. I posted beach selfies with captions full of hearts.
But inside I was starving.
For her.
For the way she broke under me.
For the way she begged to be owned.
The moment the plane landed I texted her one word.
“Tonight.”
No explan
