The morning sun, filtered through the thin curtains of the rented courtyard, was a harsh, unforgiving spotlight.
Lianhua woke slowly, her consciousness swimming up from the deepest, most exhausted sleep she had ever known. Her body felt heavy, leaden, every muscle screaming with a dull, throbbing ache that spoke of unbelievable physical exertion.
But it wasn't just aches. There was a soreness between her thighs, a raw, tender throbbing that was utterly alien to her. And she was sticky. Her skin, usually pristine, was coated in dried sweat and other, thicker fluids that crusted on her inner thighs and stomach.
Memory didn't return in a trickle; it crashed into her like a landslide.
The healing. The touch. The sudden, blinding explosion of desire. And then… him. Inside her. Again and again. For hours. For days.
