The following morning, Ava woke up with a sore body. Every time she moved as much as an inch, a jolt of pain would course through her entire being, reminding her of how crazed her night was.
"Sweetie," she croaked, praying Oliver would hear her call of distress. She cupped her throat with her hand. It felt scratchy and parched from all the singing in the great room.
The memory of their impromptu concert brought a smile on Ava's face. As she lay flat on the bed, daydreaming of last night, her face blushed as her thoughts spiralled to images of her and Oliver in the confines of their bedroom.
She thought it wasn't just the singing that made her throat dry. It was also how Oliver made sure she uttered his name in incantation with every punishing thrust he doled out to her.
