ISABELLA'S POV The hotel room feels sterile and cold compared to the penthouse I left behind it feels smaller with each passing day. I sit on the edge of the bed with my white mug clutched in both hands, staring at the plain wall. Three days have passed since I walked out, yet my heart and body still aches with the memory of Ethan ... the delicious soreness between my thighs, the faint bruises on my hips from his grip, the sensitivity of my breasts where he sucked and bit so relentlessly.I close my eyes and the memories flood back to me uninvited. His stubble scraping my inner thighs as he devoured my pussy on the kitchen island until I squirted on his tongue. The thick, veined length of his fat cock stretching me open on the couch, pounding me so deep I felt him in my womb. The way he fucked my tits, sliding between them while I licked the leaking head. The shower where he held me against the tiles and fucked me while standing, even the water mixing with our sweat and cum. The slow
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