Layla's POV.
The scent of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen as I stirred the pasta sauce, but my mind was nowhere near the food.
Cum continued to leak slowly down my inner thighs, a warm, sticky reminder of how thoroughly Marcus had claimed me against the entryway table. I hadn’t been allowed to wipe it away completely just only enough so I could move without it dripping onto the floor. Every step made me acutely aware of the slick mess between my legs, the way my well-f****d p***y still fluttered with aftershocks.
Marcus sat at the dining table behind me, sipping whiskey and watching me work. His eyes burned into my back, occasionally dropping to the hem of my short pleated skirt where fresh trails of his seed were beginning to show.
“You’re dripping again,” he observed casually, hi
