The dimly lit room pulsed with the sounds of pleasure—soft gasps, whispered names, the rustle of tangled sheets. The curtain was drawn, shielding the young lovers from the silver glow of the moon and the chorus of night birds singing from the oak trees outside. The only illumination came from the sliver of golden light spilling in from the hallway, casting faint shadows that danced along their entwined bodies.
It was more than enough for Joanne to admire him—the man above her, bathed in a sheen of sweat, his muscles flexing under her touch. Her fingers, hungry and desperate, traced the taut sinews of his back, savoring the way his body trembled beneath her caress.
