Teasing a Mommy

The moment she had woken up, she knew she was fucked. And not in the fun, "good morning, let's go for round four" kind of way. No, this was the 'holy shit, my legs are jelly, and I might need a goddamn wheelchair' kind of way.

Sitting up had been a battle. Moving had been an outright war. Every shift, every flex of her thighs had sent aftershocks rippling through her, leaving her biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood.

And the worst part?

She didn't regret a single second of it.

The embarrassment was unbearable. How the hell was she supposed to look him in the eye when her body still ached in places she hadn't even known could ache?

Her fingers dug into the spoon.

'Why the fuck did he leave?'

She should feel relieved, right? Shouldn't she be happy that she didn't have to deal with his smug face gloating over how thoroughly he destroyed her last night?

But instead, all she felt was annoyed.