ANASTASIA’S POV

Sick fantasies or dreams. Call them what you will, whatever I had buried for five years came clawing to the surface last night. I had come apart on Isaac’s cock. Not once. Not twice. But three fucking times.

Even now, as my eyes blinked open, the memories slammed back into me, vivid and unforgiving. Heat coiled low in my belly, pulsing, spreading down until I could feel wetness gathering between my thighs again, proof that my body still burned for him.

The bed beside me ...