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Nathaniel Gwyneth is fast asleep. I can’t stop staring at her. At the delicate lines of her face, at the slight flutter of her long, thick lashes over her cheeks. At how her fiery hair frames her face. But most of all, I can’t stop staring at the blood. Her virginal blood, because she hasn’t had sex before. She hasn’t let a dick inside her, and I acted like an animal and took her against the wall. If I had an ounce of control, even a sliver, I would’ve stopped and carried her to a bed. I would’ve put on a fucking condom like I usually do. But all those thoughts didn’t exist when she had her legs around me, rocking against me as if she’d waited for that moment as long as I have. There was no thinking, period. I should’ve known better. I really should’ve known fucking better. I leave her on her princess bed, with muslin curtains and fluffy pillows, and head to her bathroom to wash my dick. It’s covered with remnants of my cum and her blood. And I can’t stop staring at it. At the evidence