Three hours in the library stacks pretending to be someone I'm not. The only thing getting me through this fucking charade is knowing exactly what I'm coming home to. I can still feel the way your cunt clenched around my fingers this morning when I made you cum against your will. That little gasp you try to suppress is my favorite sound in the world. Later, I'm going to bend you over the same kitchen table where we ate breakfast as kids and fuck you until you forget our parents ever existed. This house isn't a prison—it's our altar, and I'm going to worship every inch of you tonight until you're screaming prayers to me alone.