MIA
The second Xander’s hand leaves my body I bolt, heart hammering, thighs slick with shame and need.
I rush down the hallway toward the bathroom in my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it with shaking fingers.
My back hits the wood as I slide down, legs trembling. I am soaked — my panties clinging wetly to my p***y, the ache between my legs throbbing so badly I want to cry.
This is wrong. So f*****g wrong.
I let Jakob kiss me, touch me, make me feel things I shouldn’t.
And now all I can think about is Xander — the way he cupped my p***y through my pants earlier, two thick fingers pressing against my soaked folds, feeling how wet I already am for him.
I am a mess. A widow who should be grieving, not dripping like a desperate slut for the man who broke my heart year
