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Ah man, was I sore. My cramps and twinges and knots were greater in number and spread wider over my body than when Baros and I had faced off in the ring. But we’d used more weapons than swords in the bed. There had been hands and mouths and teeth and even feet.
I’d worn him like a pair of shoes that had to be returned before the stroke of midnight. In return, he’d cracked my back. You know what I mean when I say cracked my back, right? When it’s so good your spine jackknifes off the bed and bends backward like that girl in The Exorcist.
Oh, yeah. The aftershocks were still rumbling in my core. My pinkie toes still hadn’t uncurled. My lower back wasn’t quite touching the mattress yet.
Baros lay next to me, propped up on his elbow, looking down and admiring his handiwork. With his for
