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Johnny and I both woke around half-past noon following a night of very little sleep.
He was so sweet; so attentive to how I was feeling after our evening of exploration, insisting upon taking care of me for the remainder of the night, and even more so after I took one look at myself in the mirror early Sunday morning and had a mild panic attack, realizing promptly that I would need to buy a few turtleneck sweaters and some very nice concealer, stat.
I had drifted off to sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning wearing just my underwear and one of Johnny's shirts. Upon waking, my jaw dropped when I saw my own reflection staring back at me—I appeared almost unrecognizable; my neck, chest, torso, thighs, and ass all covered in varying shades of red and purple. Handprints, bruises, and, fuck, are those bite marks...?
I felt myself start to get aroused at the memory of being on the receiving end of Johnny's palm... and mouth. There has got to be something very, very wrong with me.
"How are you feeling, baby?" Johnny came up from behind me then, breaking me from my trance of swirling inner thoughts, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tightly into his body. He planted a soft kiss gingerly on my shoulder.
My heart fluttered immediately, and the dull ache I felt while thinking about the evening prior intensified tenfold. "I'm okay. A little sore, I guess," I laughed, gesturing to my reflection in the mirror before us.
