(quick note: this chapter... Might, uh piss you off??, But it's for the sake of the PLOT. And Elara development)
...
...
...
Elara sat in the middle of her oversized 20feet long bed, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around a ridiculous foot-long plush hotdog she had won at some festival years ago and never thrown away.
The only thing she wore was an oversized white shirt that slipped off one shoulder.
The fabric was soft, but it did nothing to stop the restless heat still pulsing between her legs.
"T-that… stalker bitch…" she muttered, voice muffled against the pillow she had half-buried her face in.
Her hand drifted down almost without permission, fingers brushing over the dampness that still clung to her panties.
The wetness refused to disappear. Every time she shifted, she was reminded of how thoroughly that bastard had left her unfinished in the woods.
"Fuck!!!" She slammed her face fully into the pillow and screamed into it. "I HATE HIM!!!! B-BAKAAA~!"
