The next morning, Elena could barely walk straight.
Her thighs still burned. Her throat was raw. Her lips were chapped from sucking him deep, over and over, until her tears mixed with his release. He hadn’t let her come. Hadn’t held her after. Hadn’t said a word of praise.
Just used her.
Then dismissed her.
And yet, she found herself in his room the next day — not naked this time, not summoned.
Just cleaning.
Just pretending things were normal.
She fluffed the pillows like she hadn’t been bent over them hours earlier. Wiped down the headboard like it hadn’t banged against the wall with every thrust. Gathered the wrinkled sheets and caught the scent of him still soaked into the fabric.
Her cheeks flushed. Her fingers trembled.
You’re not allowed to feel anything, she reminded herse
