After a blistering round two of riding Thatcher's cock while grabbing the wrought-iron bed frame for dear life, I feel both thoroughly exhausted and utterly embarrassed that his family likely heard me shrieking and screaming. "They're all going to know we were fucking in here," I whisper, hiding under the sheet once the sex-drunk euphoria begins to fade.

"Chezz," he says, tugging my hair, "They already assumed we've been fucking. We're engaged, remember?" I roll my eyes at him. ...