My hands shake as I fix my clothes.
My mind is blank. Static. White noise.
What just happened?
What did we just do?
I make it to the stairs. Up each one slowly. My legs threaten to give out with every step.
The house is still dark. Still quiet.
No sign of Zero.
I lock myself in my room and slide down the door until I wince as my ass hits the floor. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to remember how to breathe.
My body is still humming. Still sensitive.
And yet…
Still wanting more.
And that's the worst part.
Not what happened.
But that I want it to happenagain.
Chapter 16
Imake it to the bathroom.
Barely.
Each step is agony. A sharp, tearing reminder of what just happened.
My hands shake as I lock the door. The click echoes too loud in the silence.
I don't look in the mirror. Can't.
The bathtub is old. Clawfoot. Deep. The kind that swallows you whole.
I turn the hot water on. Watch it pour from the faucet, steam rising, filling the space with wet heat.
My clothes come off slowly. The shirt sticks to my skin. My jeans drag against raw flesh and I have to bite my lip. The fabric is ruined. Stained.
My underwear is soaked through. Slick and come mixing together into something that makes me want to vomit. When they're finally off, I look down.
My thighs are streaked. Pale skin painted with dried slick. His come still leaking out of me. And blood. Just a little. Faint streaks.
I step into the tub.
The water is scalding. Hot enough to turn my skin red. I sink down slowly. Let it swallow me.
When the water touches between my legs, I gasp. The heat against abused flesh is unbearable.
I pull my knees to my chest. Wrap my arms around them. Make myself small.
Everything hurts. My ass feels torn, stretched, used. My thighs are sore. My hips will bruise where his fingers dug in.
