The bed was a mess of tangled sheets, sweat, and hair plastered to their skin. André and Vivienne lay there, completely exhausted, every muscle screaming for mercy, yet neither daring to move. Their chests heaved, breaths heavy and uneven, their arms wrapped around each other. On the outside, it looked like lovers. Soft caresses. Tender touches. Innocent murmurs. But inside, both were silently screaming venom. Every gentle stroke made their skin crawl.
Vivienne's brain was a chaotic storm. This bastard is insane. He seriously fucked me until the sun set. I can't feel my legs. I think I'm going to be crippled forever. He has ruined me. And yet… he touches me like an innocent motherfucker. God I hate him. I wish he'd fall into a pit of guillotine. I hope He gets ripped apart by a pack of wolves.
