The Devil Who Bought Me
Her pussy throbbed, still gripping his spent cock, warm and heavy inside her.
“Some lesson,” she whispered, her voice still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.
He chuckled, a low, satisfied rumble. “Just the beginning, *mia cara*. Just the beginning.” He kissed her hair, his hand stroking her back, a gesture of profound tenderness. The anger, the betrayal, had been consumed by the fire of their shared passion, leaving behind a fragile, yet potent, connection. She had wanted to understand him, to know him. And in the depths of their shared intimacy, she had found a truth more profound than any she could have unearthed through her clandestine investigations.
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