100 Nights of Forbidden Fire
Yet, a part of her, the dark, hungry part, yearned for more.
Dante slowly pulled out, the wet squelch of separation echoing in the silence. He carefully zipped up his pants, then slid back to his side of the bed, creating a small, safe distance between them. Aria lay still, her body tingling, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The smell of sex, of their mingled fluids, hung heavy in the air. She could almost taste it.
Her eyes drifted to Cassian, still deep in sleep. A pang of something sharp, something akin to remorse, twisted in her gut. But it was quickly overshadowed by the lingering heat between her legs, the memory of Dante’s weight, his thrusts, his taste.
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