Emma lounged on the couch, scrolling through her phone on that quiet Friday evening.
Justin had texted earlier about heading out with Jefferson for drinks, leaving her alone in the house.
The silence was quite cloudy, but her mind wandered back to the brutal way Jefferson had f****d her, the ache still lingering between her legs.
A buzz from her phone snapped her out of it. The message was from Jefferson's new number:
“I have a Package for you arriving soon. Wear everything inside. Meet me at The Velvet Lounge, private spot downtown. Don't keep me waiting, slut.
Her heart raced, a thrill shooting through her core.
She bit her lip at the idea of whatever was in the package, p***y already tingling at the thought of what he'd do— maybe pin her against a wall, ram his thick black c*
