Sometimes I catch myself staring at that empty chair in the corner of my room and my stomach just... drops. The one he sat in that night. My heart starts racing like it's happening all over again and I have to touch my lips to make sure they're still mine. I can still feel the weight of him, the way the wood creaked beneath us, how his cock felt so fucking perfect stretching me open. I was so scared someone would hear but I couldn't stop myself from begging for more. Now I walk past his room and my whole body aches remembering how he pinned my wrists and made me say his name. I'm supposed to be doing homework but all I can think about is whether he remembers how wet I got for him. This secret is going to eat me alive.