The silence that followed Sabrina's intense, vocal surrender was heavy, thick with the lingering scent of Scotch and the electric afterglow of her climax. She lay there, her breath hitching in her throat, her mind frantically trying to stitch her dignity back together.
She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line, praying that the sheer force of her will could erase the last sixty seconds from existence.
Then, the silence was shattered.
It wasn't a gentle chuckle or a sympathetic murmur. It was a sudden, booming burst of laughter that erupted from Mike's chest, echoing off the marble walls of the bathroom with a mocking, triumphant energy.
"Oh, Sabrina," he managed to say between bouts of laughter, his voice rich with amusement.
He didn't look at her with reverence; he looked at her with the delighted condescension of a man who had just solved a particularly amusing puzzle.
