I didn’t get much rest.

His hand stayed between my legs the whole time, fingers lazy and possessive, occasionally sliding through the mess he’d left inside me. Every time I shifted, I felt how open and used I was. The burn from the first time had settled into a deep, heavy ache that pulsed whenever I clenched.

He must have felt it.

“Still feeling me?” he asked against my hair.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He rolled me onto my stomach without warning. The sleeping bag bunched under my hips. Cool air hit my bare back when he pushed the crop top higher. I heard the soft sound of him stroking himself, getting...