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Chapter 9 by Kristobal Kristobal

Does Emily tell him?

No

The room was dark but for a sliver of moonlight spilling across the carpet. Jason shut the door behind them, loosening his tie with a sigh. Emily followed, robe cinched snug, her damp hair wrapped in the towel she’d taken from the bathroom.

He stretched his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. “Long day,” he muttered, voice low, almost tired.

Emily perched on the edge of the bed, pulse uneven, her skin cool and freshly washed. She’d rinsed herself thoroughly in the shower, her body scrubbed clean of sweat, her hair smelling faintly of the hotel’s lavender shampoo. On the surface, there was no trace of what had happened earlier. But inside, her muscles still remembered, and her womb still ached faintly from being stretched and filled.

Jason sat beside her, leaned in, and kissed her. It was soft, perfunctory, lips brushing without hunger. His hand moved to her thigh with the kind of caution she remembered from their first dates—polite, tentative.

“Mm,” he murmured, shifting closer. “Been a while, huh?”

She **** a smile and nodded.

When his mouth found hers again, it lacked urgency. She leaned back on the pillows, letting the robe part around her body. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, his hand sliding between her thighs, and she opened for him. Out of routine. Out of duty.

When he pushed inside her, she bit her lip, forcing her face to stay soft. The stretch was familiar. Safe. Nowhere near what she’d felt earlier. His rhythm set in quickly—steady, even, predictable.

Emily’s eyes fluttered closed. Not because she was lost in him. But because she wasn’t.

She pictured the rougher grip from before, the weight pinning her down, the cock that had filled her so completely she could barely breathe. The memory made her body respond even as Jason’s thrusts barely skimmed the surface of what she needed.

Her climax came faintly, a shallow pulse low in her belly. She moaned softly, enough to let Jason believe, but her mind wasn’t here. It was still trapped in that wrong room.

Jason groaned, released quickly, and slumped against her. His breathing slowed almost immediately, his body already sagging into sleep.

Emily lay still beneath the heavy covers. Her skin was cool. Dry. Clean. Her body calm on the outside but chaotic within, her head racing through images she couldn’t banish.

Jason snored quietly beside her, satisfied.

She stared at the ornate ceiling until her eyes ached, wondering if she’d ever feel whole again—or if the shadow of another man’s touch would haunt her forever.

What happens come morning?

More fun
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