June’s Point of View
A sharp ache pulsed through my limbs the moment I stirred. I winced, groaning softly as my eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft morning light that filtered through the window. My body felt heavy, sore—used. Not in a bad way, but in a way that reminded me of every passionate, breathless moment that unraveled last night.
God. Last night.
My breath caught in my throat just thinking about it. The way Dos moved—like he wasn’t even hurting. As if the bruises painting his skin meant nothing, as if pain itself feared him. He was intense. Focused. Every kiss, every touch felt like it was meant to unravel me, and clearly, he succeeded. The soreness between my thighs was proof enough.
I pressed my hands over my burning cheeks and groaned.
“Ugh, June! What are you even
