I stare at the three photos on my phone like they’re loaded guns.

Shirtless. Kneeling on my bed. One hand around my cock, the other spreading myself open just enough that the light catches the slick sheen of lube. Face tilted up, mouth parted, eyes half-lidded the way Marcus used to like when he was about to push in and ruin me for anyone else.

I typed the caption an hour ago and haven’t sent it.

Miss this? Dump the fiancée. One night. I’ll be good this time.

My thumb hovers. Marcus has been radio-silent for six weeks—ever since the engagement announcement went up on every platform like a personal...