>Mallory
In the end, we've done it till morning.
When I shifted even slightly, a dull, unmistakable throb spread through my thighs. The room felt warm, dim despite the bright strips of morning light leaking through the curtains. The smell of soap clung to my skin, faint but noticeable, and for a moment I couldn't understand why my legs felt like they had been replaced with wobbly overcooked noodles.
Then it actually hit me.
Right. Last night.
I looked at the oversize shirt I was wearing. I still remember the part where he said he would "just help me wash up." and it didn't just ended in me washing up.
"This monster…" I muttered, glaring at the man sleeping comfortably beside me. He looked so peaceful, as if he hadn't spent the entire night proving he had the stamina of some cursed creature.
Meanwhile I—God—I climbed into his lap like someone who had no concept of dignity. This was exactly why I shouldn't drink alcohol.
I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned into the pillow.
