◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆
Dickson barely slept. Every time his eyelids dropped, the images assaulted him: Maya’s oiled palm wrapped around Marcus’s thick shaft, the slow glide of her cunt swallowing him whole, the way Marcus’s hips had rolled up to meet her like he was starving.
Worse… his own c**k had jerked in response, leaking against his thigh even as guilt clawed his throat.
By 2:17 a.m. he was dressed and in the car, Sarah’s spare key burning a hole in his pocket like a live coal. He told himself he just needed answers. Closure. One last conversation to understand why five years had evaporated.
The drive felt surreal, he couldn’t wait to get to her apartment and demand answers. Her building loomed dark except for the warm glow in her bedroom window. Hope flickered stupidly in his chest.
