Monday morning came too soon. I stood in front of my locker, my body still humming with the memory of Brandon's hands on me, his c**k stretching me open on the kitchen island. Every time I shifted my weight, I felt the delicious soreness between my thighs—a constant reminder of what we'd done.
What we kept doing.
The weekend had been a blur of stolen moments and desperate f*****g. In the shower while Mom was at the grocery store. Bent over the washing machine in the basement. On my knees in his home office with his c**k down my throat while he took a work call. Each time more intense than the last, each time pushing the boundaries of how reckless we could be.
I was addicted. To him. To the danger. To the way he made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered wh
