Night time, sleeping time.
In the shadowed sanctum of Aiden's chamber, where the flickering torchlight danced like captive spirits on the stone walls, the air hung heavy with the musk of desire and the faint, acrid tang of spilled wine from the feast below.
The bed, a vast expanse of silken furs and embroidered linens—remnants of a noble lineage Aiden had only recently claimed—creaked under the weight of entangled bodies, each breath a symphony of longing that echoed through the castle's ancient halls.
Outside, the night winds whispered secrets of distant battles, but here, in this forge of flesh and fire, the world narrowed to the pulse of hearts and the slick rhythm of surrender.
Sliickk!.....sluurp…sleickk…
"This dick… gods, this cock—because of these nasty, swollen balls…" Catherine's voice slithered through the dimness, husky and unashamed, each word punctuated by the obscene gulp and slurp as she swallowed him deeper.
