Aftershocks (Joe's POV)

Emily lay splayed before me, face down on the mattress, ass up in perfect surrender; her body glistening with sweat, skin flushed pink from the marathon we’d just run. I held her wrists pinned at the small of her back, gripping tight as I drove into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt. Her pussy clenched around me like a vice, as I flooded her again; thick, hot bursts of cum painting her walls, overflowing, dripping down her thighs onto the already-ruined sheets.

"What happened to you?" she gasped, voice hoarse and trembling as she came down from yet another shattering orgasm; her body shuddering, pussy fluttering around my still-hard cock. "You're relentless..."

I was sweating, chest heaving, heart pounding; but my stamina held steady, no crash, no fade. My watch hadn't even pinged a raised pulse. Another perk from the Voyeurs, I thought with a smug grin, slowly pulling out, watching my cum leak from her swollen, well-fucked pussy in thick rivulets.

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded and spent, a lazy, satisfied smile curving her lips. I released her wrists, and she collapsed fully, rolling slightly to face me.

"I love you so much," she whispered, breath still ragged.

I lay beside her, pulling her close, lips brushing the damp skin at the back of her neck. "I know," I murmured; our little shared joke, a nod to the line that always made us laugh.

The sheets were utterly destroyed; drenched, tangled, marked with the evidence of our passion. Proudly ruined, I thought, tracing lazy circles on her hip. It had been almost two hours since Iris left us to "reconnect," and we hadn’t stopped once; round after round, positions shifting in a blur of moans, gasps, and the wet slap of bodies. Emily’s thighs trembled even now, her pussy still pulsing faintly with aftershocks.

"You're everything to me, Em," I whispered into her ear, nuzzling closer. I’d have dropped to one knee right then if the ring weren’t tucked safely in Iris’s bag for tonight. For now, she needed rest. She’d be swaying a little on that red carpet later, and I wondered who’d notice—and who’d guess why.

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We showered eventually; though it took serious willpower not to pin her against the tile and start round… whatever we were on. The steam-filled bathroom echoed with her giggles as I soaped her back, hands lingering on her ass, her breasts, teasing but stopping short. We were both still buzzing, bodies humming from the marathon.

Dressed now, I slipped into a simple black tee that hugged my chest and dark jeans, paired with the rugged boots Emily called my "fuckable" ones. She threw on business-casual, her tailored pants and a blouse that somehow looked anything but casual on her, clinging just right to every curve.

I watched her in the mirror as she pulled her hair into a simple ponytail, the motion making her shirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of skin. The woman I’m going to ask to marry me tonight, I thought, heart swelling.

"What?" she asked, catching my stare, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Nothing," I said, stepping close to kiss her neck once more. "Ladies first."

She laughed softly as we headed to the door. I glanced back at the bed; fresh sheets delivered, but the memory of our wreck lingered in the air.

Ruined sheets weren’t new for us.

And they sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.