Explicit ✔

twenty-five 🔥🔥

Wait til I tell Delilah about this...

Before Chester could wake, she hurried to his bathroom to check her reflection. She'd be flushed, with pillow marks all over her face, for sure.

Sure enough, as the fluorescent light flickered to life above the mirror, they frightened her, and she gasped at the vision before her. There were a few bruises on her shoulders, a tiny bite mark on her neck, and her nipples were swollen, reddened, sensitive to the touch.

She and Lyla had played quite a while, and enjoyed one another, but Coralie doubted she'd ever indulge in such activities again. No matter how she'd vibrated and twitched and screamed in ecstasy at Lyla's talent, it was Chester's final stroke that truly sent her over the edge.

Disgusted by her appearance, she fixed the smeared mascara under her eyes and rubbed a damp cotton ball over her eyelids to wipe off the eye-shadow residue. And after tiptoeing back out into the main room to grab her powder, she dabbed the substance over her blotchy cheeks and nose and pressed it over her still sweaty forehead.

She grimaced at herself. After meeting Lyla, she was well aware of her inferiority; of her minimal appeal, her less plump, less perky boobs, the horrid bumps around her lower lips, from shaving. She despised her lanky arms and her saggy belly and her far-from-perfect ass, and wrinkled her nostrils at her lack of poise, of polish, of sensuality. How had any man ever desired her? Compared to Lyla, she was gross.

Instead of relishing in the fun she'd had, she'd brought herself down by comparing herself to an actual queen of beauty. It wasn't fair to herself, and it wasn't fair that Chester had chosen Lyla as the first and only woman Coralie would have intercourse with. It set an impossible standard, a ridiculous tone that she'd never attain. And she wasn't positive she'd ever forgive him for that.

Sulking, she padded to the bed, snatching her phone from her purse on the way. She had two missed calls from Ryan, and another from Michael, along with a text to make sure she was all right, since she didn't say goodnight.

"Shit," she said to herself, locking her cell and tossing it onto the nightstand, between two extinguished candles. "I suck."

"Mmmm." Chester stirred awake and drew her close to his bare chest. "Suck. That you did. My dick. It was glorious."

Though she smirked at his joke, Coralie tried to squirm from his arms. "Yeah, but Lyla did it better."

"Hey." Chester rolled on top of her, pinning her down, forcing her to look at him. "No comparison, okay? You were both exquisite. That's not what this was about." He spoke so eloquently for someone who'd just awoken, squinting at her as he slid a strand of hair behind her ear. "Did you go fix yourself in the bathroom? Where's that delightful rosiness I love waking up to?"

Her cheeks overheated and she bunched her lips. "I... um... can't stand my morning skin. Or my skin at any given time. So yeah, I tidied this shit up."

He caressed her jawline and planted a kiss on her nose. "Stop that. You're beautiful, with or without makeup, with or without clothes on." He put his forehead against hers. "You're comparing yourself to her, and you shouldn't. Lyla's a freak of nature, snorts coke several times a week, and can't wear high heels to save her life because she's constantly drunk. You, my sweet, are perfect. In every way."

Hearing of Lyla outside of the cocoon of a room they'd been locked in overnight prompted Coralie to frown. The truth about the dazzling beauty took away all her allure and started to calm Coralie's erratic thoughts... but not for long. "But is she fucking two other guys while fantasizing about you? Is she a cheating piece of shit?"