The first light of dawn was just beginning to creep into the room when I woke up. For a moment, I didn't know where I was.
The bed was too soft, the sheets too smooth, the air too still. Then I felt the heavy weight of an arm draped over my waist, the warm breath on the back of my neck, and it all came rushing back.
The fight and the raw, punishing sex.
I was still in his bed. He hadn't left.
My body ached in a way that was both deeply satisfying and utterly humiliating. Every muscle screamed in protest, a physical reminder of his possession. I carefully lifted his arm, my movements slow and deliberate, trying not to wake him. I needed to get out of there. I needed to think.
