KILLSHOT // [H.S]

043. BROKEN // LUCKY

043. BROKEN // LUCKY

When Rory woke, she had no idea where she was.

Dammit, Ro. You had such a good track record, the voice in her head sneered. Back to whoring around, waking up in unknown rooms with-

Wait. Hold on.

Rory reached behind her and tugged open the blind, allowing a sliver of light to pour into the room.

She was in Harry's bed.

I know where I am!

You act like that's a fucking accomplishment, the voice snarked.

Shut up. Wait. When did I end up here? The last thing I remember was the dining room table when-

The front door slamming shut, followed by distant voices, caught her attention. She looked at the clock on the nightstand.

Almost six at night? I guess he really did fuck me to sleep this time.

For someone who had slept for possibly twelve hours straight, Rory felt exhausted. How on earth was that possible? She internally groaned, thinking about how her sleep schedule would be a disaster.

Her stomach grumbled with an alarmingly loud noise. Food was a necessity.

Crawling out of bed, she made her way straight to the bathroom. Eyes falling on her reflection, she paused to stare at herself for a moment. Her hair was damp and braided, and she wore one of Harry's shirts and a pair of cotton shorts. It was different from what she put on last night. Did she braid her hair? Her sex-exhausted brain couldn't remember.

What really caught her eye were the marks on her neck. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, seeing how far down they went. Across her collarbones and shoulders, she could see every place he sucked and bit at her skin.

Maybe he really is a vampire, she thought to herself and giggled.

Rory lifted her shirt to see more marks covering her breasts.

Although the activities from the early morning were still a foggy memory, what she saw in the mirror didn't alarm her. Not at all.

It was just a reminder of all the time spent focusing on her pleasure. Rory wanted to be ruined by him. And if this was his way of doing so, she was more than happy to continue.

"Look at you," his voice flooded through her head, "All ready for me..."

Rory pictured him saying those words just like he had earlier. And suddenly, she remembered it - laying back on the dining room table, naked from him ripping her clothes off. She recalled him speaking to her in a voice that sounded like the whisky he had finished drinking, edging her on with each word and leaving her craving his lips on her skin.