Sophia woke the next afternoon with her body screaming in the best and worst ways. Every muscle felt used, claimed, owned. There were fresh bruises blooming on her hips, bite marks on the inside of her thighs, and a deep, throbbing ache between her legs that made her clench around nothing just remembering how they’d passed her back and forth on that desk like she was nothing but warm, wet flesh for their pleasure.
She spent the day floating through her chores in a daze, hyper-aware of every glance from Damien and every low command from Victor. By the time the sun dipped below the tree line and the last car left the estate, her skin was already tingling with anticipation.
This time they didn’t come to her room.
A note had been slipped under her door in Victor’s precise handwriting: *Play
