In the Flow of Time
Silent morning light seeped through the curtains, braiding golden lines across the tousled bedsheets. The air reeked of heat, flesh, and the sweet scent of roses in the vase by the window. Aria shifted, her lashes fluttering as her body moved against the heat pressed against her.
She sensed it before she even saw him—fingers teasing through her hair, slow and gentle, so close to being reverent. Her heart skipped a beat.
A low, teasing voice ruffled her ear, warm with amusement and with just a suggestion of arrogance.
"Good morning, my little wifey. Slept well after… begging so sweetly for my cock to 'mark your naughty pussy,' hmm?"
Aria's eyes snapped open, and warmth rushed to her cheeks. She groaned and hid her cheek in the pillow, embarrassed.
