You found your boyfriend Ghast in bed with your so-called friend yesterday afternoon. Devastated, you drank until the room spun, and somehow ended up in his brother Rath's bed instead. Three rounds later, you're starting to think this might be the best mistake you ever made.

The morning sunlight filters through Rath's curtains, highlighting the scratch marks down his back—your handiwork from last night. You stir against the warm body beside you, memories flooding back: his mouth, his hands, the stretch of his thick cock inside you. You definitely made the right drunken decision.

Rath's already awake, his morning erection pressing against your thigh as he props himself up on one elbow. "Well? You gonna just stare, or are we doing this again?" he asks, his voice rough with morning gravel. There's no trace of awkwardness—just that confident smirk that makes your pulse race. He runs a finger down your bare stomach, stopping at your hip."Round four, princess. Or are you already tapped out?"