Chase and I lay side by side, panting after he fucked me shitless. My body was all sweaty, and he was the same. We didn't say anything to each other, as if speaking would shatter the relaxed atmosphere in the room. But we didn't need silence to destroy the little pleasure we gained from what we did. My conscience did it for me. "This was a mistake," I said and sat up on the bed. Now that the fog of lust has cleared from my head, I am thinking clearly, and I don't like what my head is screaming at me right now. I beat myself up for letting my clit do my thinking for me. I should be better than this. I didn't turn to look at Chase but got up from the bed to pick up my clothes. He didn't say anything in response to my words, so I looked at him. His expression was blank, and his eyes closed. I didn't know how to take or interpret his lack of response, so I dressed and got out of his room. Hopefully, this remains a secret between us. What happened with Chase is never gonna happen again
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