Chapter 152 Emma

• Emma dragged herself from the shower stall, the towel barely clinging to her damp skin as water dripped in steady plinks onto the bathroom tile.
• Her legs wobbled, knees buckling under the weight of exhaustion and lingering soreness.
• The hot spray had rinsed away the physical evidence of Jefferson's assault—most of it, anyway—but the ache between her thighs pulsed relentlessly. She gripped the sink edge for support, staring at her reflection: eyes red-rimmed, lips swollen from rough kisses and screams, faint purple fingerprints circling her neck. 'He fucked me... owned me like a rag doll.' The thought sent a shiver down her spine, not entirely from revulsion.