The room was a graveyard of what they did the night before.
Cum on the sheets. Blood on the pillows. Scratch marks down his back. Bite marks on her inner thighs.
The scent of s*x thick in the air like incense to some unholy god. Isadora’s hair was matted. Her lips swollen. Her entire body still trembled with soreness. But she didn’t care. She was burning now.
Dominic stood near the window like a shadow dressed in sin. A gun tucked into his waistband. His jaw tight. Eyes blank. Shirt unbuttoned. And a suitcase half-packed on the floor behind him like he’d already made the decision without her.
She stepped forward. Barefoot. Naked. Shaking.
“So that’s it?” her voice cracked through the silence. “You think you can f**k me, mark me, fill me up with your c*m, and then wake up the next mo
