𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
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The instant embarrassment and hangover that hit me the minute I opened my eyes was like getting drop-kicked by a horse wearing stilettos.
I can't believe I actually asked him to fuck me. I obviously didn't want him to, but that didn't stop the shame from flooding my veins. I wanted to scuba dive into a big lake of acid and erase myself from existence.
My left nipple tingled, a lingering sensation from how he touched me. The memory replayed in my mind like a broken record, my drunk self trying to convince me that I enjoyed it. The way his fingers had teased and pinched, it was almost believable.
But I didn't like it.
I couldn't like it. I hated him and his arrogance. I hated the way he talked down to me, treating me like an insignificant existence he couldn't wait to crush. Yet, the memory of his touch lingered, a mix of anger and a traitorous spark of desire. I hated the way his fingers had felt against my skin, and I hated the man and his guts even more for it.
I got up from the bed slowly, trying not to upset my stomach or make the pounding in my head worse. I took a good look around my surroundings, my eyes gradually taking note of everything: the sparse furniture, the heavy drapes, the cold, impersonal decor. Each detail seemed to underscore just how real this situation and marriage were becoming.
My eyes settled on the large full-length mirror in front of me. I looked like a wreck. My hair was a tangled mess, mascara streaked down my cheeks, and there was dried drool on the side of my mouth.
My eyes shifted down to Jolina's dress on the floor, and I realized that I had slept in just my bra and panties. I wanted to cuss myself out, but the sight of my ass in the mirror stopped me.
Damn, my ass looked good as fuck.
The fact that Emilio saw me like this, with all this ass on display, and still didn't fuck me was a bit crazy to me. But I was relieved, and weirdly impressed. It was even crazier that my brain thought his restraint made him a tiny bit more attractive.
The hangover is definitely messing with my head.
I saw a door on my left that I assumed was the bathroom and cautiously opened it. To my amazement or not, the bathroom was bigger than my entire room back home. It had gleaming marble floors, a spacious walk-in shower with a single, sleek showerhead, and a large, round bathtub in the middle that looked more like a small swimming pool.
I gingerly closed the door and tiptoed towards the balcony on the side of the room. I locked the latch on the windows and yanked the curtains shut like I was hiding from the paparazzi. Then, I moved to what looked like the main door and locked it twice, just to be extra sure no one, especially the devil I was now living with, would be coming in.
I took off my bra and panties and stepped into the shower, sighing in relief as the cold water hit my body. I positioned myself strategically to make sure the water didn't mess up the silk press I gave myself yesterday.
