The lecture had ended hours ago, but its echoes still reverberated through Amber's body like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. She lay in Kabir's bed, tangled in sheets that smelled of him, sandalwood and musk and something darker, something that made her inner muscles clench with memory. Her body was a map of his possession. The rose quartz plug had been replaced with something softer, a silicone keeper that reminded her with every movement that she was claimed. Her breasts ached with a sweet, heavy fullness, the memory of his mouth drawing her first milk still burning on her nipples. Between her legs, she was swollen and sensitive, her clit still pulsing with the ghost of the vibrating wand, her virgin channel untouched but weeping, desperate, hollow.