Phoebe’s POV

He pushed my hair away from my face with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing my cheek while my chest heaved like I’d run a marathon. If my pussy had a mind of its own it would have been weeping from pure joy at the good fucking we’d just had. His thick cock had scratched the itch I’d been carrying for months, years, really, but it had also cracked something open inside me. I was a leaking mess, his cum already slipping out around his shaft, coating my inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets in slow, obscene trails. I wanted more. I needed more. But we weren’t kids anymore. Damon...