I can’t sleep.

The guest room is too quiet, too empty, too far from him. My body is still humming—pussy sore and swollen from the garage, thighs sticky with his cum even after I tried to clean up in the bathroom sink. Every time I shift under the sheets, I feel the ache, the stretch he left behind, and it makes me clench around nothing. Makes me wet all over again.

It’s 2:17 a.m. according to my phone. Snow’s still falling outside the window, soft and silent, blanketing the whole street. Sophie’s flight is delayed until tomorrow night at the earliest—some freak storm system. She texted me goodnight an hour...