Death Bliss
Serafina's dark hair spreads across the wool, and her hands are already working the buttons of my shirt, and her eyes are on mine with the same steady attention she gives to every document she translates.
She does not look away. She has never looked away.
I lower myself over her, and she arches up to meet me, and the sound she makes when I enter her is the softest thing I have heard in this house since I returned. I move inside her slowly, not because I am holding back but because I want to feel every inch of this, every breath, every small shift of her hips against mine. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper, and her hands are on my back, my shoulders, my face, and she is s