I woke up to the smell of bacon and the blinding Saturday morning sun. For one blissful, stupid second, I thought it had all been a nightmare.

Then I moved.

A deep, throbbing ache pulsed between my legs, a brutal reminder that it was real. Every muscle screamed in protest. The slick, shameful memory of Mark’s cock filling me, of his hot cum flooding my insides, washed over me, and I curled into a ball, burying my face in my pillow. It was real. The study. The desk. The floor. His voice. All of it.

I stayed in bed for as long as I could, but eventually, the sound of...