I wipe the mist on the mirror with my forearm and barely hold back a groan. I don't like how I look. It's not as bad as three days ago. The eye bags are gone, my nose isn't swollen anymore, and the bruise on my cheek is greenish rather than black and purple.
But something is wrong and it shows in my gaze. The green is still sparkling from the orgasm Nate gave me, and it's only
lessened by my self-loathing.
I turn around, looking at the initials on my ass cheek, and I bite my lower lip to not let out a desperate whimper. It's red, burning, a part of the W still bleeding. A mark from the devil himself.
How did I let this happen?
