Page 22 of Owned In Misty Mountain

Wrap her up in my arms.

And whisper into her hair:

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Ten

Shanay

I wake up sore.

Not just a little.

Deep. Heavy kind of sore.

The kind that lingers in your muscles and between your thighs.

The kind that makes you remember exactly what you did.

My cheeks heat before my eyes are even fully open.

And I’m alone.

The bed smells like him.

Like cedar and sweat and everything we did in the dark.

My heart pounds.

I pull the sheet tighter around me and stare at the ceiling.

I let him…

He had me crying on his tongue. On his big dick.

And then I sucked him off until my throat hurt. And—

“Morning.”

I jolt upright.

Mike’s standing in the doorway, shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder. Hair wet. Beard still damp.

He’s holding a mug of coffee.

“Thought you might be hurting,” he says softly. “Drew you a bath.”

I can’t speak.

I just nod, accept the mug with shaking hands,take a sip, set it on the nightstand, and follow him into the bathroom.

—-

The tub’s already full—steaming and filled with something that smells like eucalyptus.

He hands me a towel and kisses my forehead.

“Let me know if you need help getting in,” he says, voice low. “Last night was… Just let me know.”

---