I woke up sore.
Sore didn't even cover it.
Every muscle in my body throbbed, like I'd been used, worshipped, destroyed, then stitched back together with nothing but sweat and cum and desperate moans. My thighs trembled when I shifted. Between my legs— God. I could still feel him. His cum leaking slowly out of me, sticky and warm on the sheets beneath me. My face heated instantly.
How many times had we done it?
Once in the car. Then again the second he shut the bedroom door. I'd barely caught my breath before he was dragging me into the shower, pressing me up against the tiles while water poured over us and I screamed his name into the steam. I came—what—three times in there?
Then again. And again.
Back on the bed. On my stomach. On my side. Legs over his shoulders. Hands tied above my head with his belt at one point—I think?
