Hope
I spent the first thirty minutes of my day convincing myself that last night was just one big undesirable dream and I wasn't the one who got f****d to oblivion.
It simply couldn't be me. Someone else was moaning, sweating, and grabbing the sheets. Someone else was squirming, quivering, and... Oh my god, begging.
I believed that if I closed my eyes tight enough and wished it all away it would leave but who was I kidding?
The delicious soreness between my thighs definitely didn't come as a result of self-pleasure. He'd been the one, the smell of s*x all over the sheets proved it. I also remembered it vividly; the whispers of sweet nothings, my thumping heart, the heat of his skin, his weight on me, the warmth of his mouth, his fingers, his-the content in my stomach slashed around.
