The knock came again.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“Open the f*****g door, b***h! We gotta pee!”
Voices. Drunk. Loud. Slutty.
I scrambled off the counter, but my legs buckled as soon as my feet hit the floor. My p***y still spasmed with the ghost of my orgasm, and my clit was so sensitive it hurt.
“s**t,” I whispered under my breath, grabbing the counter for balance.
I wiped myself with shaking hands, but it was useless. I was still wet. Still leaking. My inner thighs were glossy. My scent filled the room like heat.
Damon.
His name pulsed through my chest again.
I bent quickly, grabbed the ruined dress from the floor, stared at the soaked fabric for a second, then shoved them into the trash like they were evidence.
Another knock.
Louder this time.
“You dead in there or just drowning in yo
