Ester's room was spacious, silent, and perfectly tidy. The black curtains blocked the moonlight, the air was as cold as ever—and still, she couldn't sleep.
She tossed and turned, the silk sheets already tangled, the coolness of her skin trying to calm the fire burning inside her. But all she had to do was close her eyes for a few seconds, and the sound pierced the walls like a curse.
"Ahh... harder... Damon..."
The drawn-out, trembling voice, thick with pleasure, echoed again. Ester's body stiffened instantly. Her fists clenched against the pillow.
"Again..." she whispered, breathless.
It had been a week. Seven nights in a row. Seven nights in which Aria's pleasure was spat against the walls, vibrating until it reached her room. Ester, who had always prized silence and absolute control, now found herself being tortured.
