The slow slaps of flesh echoed in the darkness, a faint light leaking from the pantry as Leona's ripe peach quivered with each thrust. Her palms were flat on the counter, the cool stone misted by breath and the light sheen of condensation from her heated flesh.
The kitchen carried the lingering scent of spices and citrus, undercut by the sharp herbal burn clinging to his bandage and under that, the warmer musk spilling from them both. Outside, Londis' rain rattled the window in hushed applause.
Nikolai drove forward like a man trying to hammer a nail into the world. His fingers dug into her hipbones, thumbs notching instinctively into familiar hollows, rolling her back onto him as his body chased relief it hadn't earned.
