I Let Him Ruin My Ass (4)
Dinner was quiet and normal.
Amber had lit candles and made garlic pasta, all proud and giddy like she wasn’t sitting across from the man who’d been buried in me just hours ago. My thighs still ached. My panties were ruined, soaked through before I even stepped into the house.
Nat hadn’t said much. He sat at the head of the table, looking calm, composed. Like he hadn’t just spent the afternoon telling me I was his.
“You barely touched your food,” Amber said, jabbing her fork toward my plate. “You okay?”
I forced a smile. “Just not very hungry tonight.”
Nat looked up at me. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then to my lap. Subtle, but I felt it like a touch. I knew what he was thinking. I knew what he wanted.
Amber kept talking about some girl drama at school. I
