Iris's POV 

I woke up naked and warm, sheets twisted around one ankle.

For a few seconds I just lay there staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom, body heavy, the dull throb between my legs already familiar. The night before came back in pieces, Rafael’s hand over my mouth, the gag, the way he’d fucked me silent under the pouring water while Britney sat on the other side of the door. The way I’d walked downstairs with nothing under the turtleneck and his come still inside me.

I’d tried to sleep. Instead I’d spent half the night replaying it, fingers sliding down between my thighs in the dark,...