Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

SIT YOUR ASS down.
I startle, opening my eyes as the shadows of raindrops dance across my
ceiling.
Shit. My bedroom comes into view, still dim from the sunless sky
filtering through the windows, and the quick vibrations of my phone on my
bedstand going off steadily.
Do something for me? I hear her say.
I squeeze my eyes shut, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow.
Damn her.
The fabric cools my hot skin as sweat dampens my back. Her taunting
voice—her whisper against my cheek—still rings in my ears.
I wasn’t dreaming about her. God, please tell me I wasn’t dreaming about
her.
But I’m throbbing.
I search my brain, trying to remember anything before I woke, but all I
feel is a cloud in my head. And the strain in my body. Pools of heat swirl in
my stomach, the warmth between my thighs sensitive, I’m restless and
relaxed at the same time. It’s not unpleasant.
Reaching down between my legs, I touch myself through my shorts and
underwear, instantly feeling the slickness.
I yank my hand away and sit up. Jesus Christ. That self-absorbed,
shallow bitch... What the hell?
No. Absolutely not.
I’m over this. I’ve been over this for years now. She’s straight. I knew