Thunder crashes outside like the world is ending, and every rumble sends fragments of memory spinning through my damaged mind. I lie in the guest bedroom where Elio insists I should recover, staring at the ceiling while rain pounds against windows with increasing violence. Each flash of lightning illuminates the room in stark black and white.Something about storms sets my anxiety on edge. Images move behind my closed eyelids—stone walls, gauzy curtains billowing in ocean wind, rain beating against tall windows while passion consumed everything rational. The memory feels real enough to taste, yet when I reach for details, they dissolve like smoke.“Fuck,” I whisper into the darkness as another memory fragment surfaces.Hands gripping my hips. My back arched against cool stone. Thunder masking the sounds of desperate pleasure while someone worshipped my body. The taste of wine and salt air. Words whispered in Italian that made my soul burn.Another crash of thunder makes me bolt uprigh
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-06-03
