Amelia
I groan in my sleep, or was it a moan? I’m not sure. I can feel myself absentmindedly writhing. I’m aware of the warm naked body beside me and the scent I’ve come to know and love.
Martin’s arm is draped across my stomach and bent at the elbow as his large hand cups my bre*st.
Slowly, I come to and blink my eyes open, breathing in the masculine scent of him. I smile as the memories from last night hit me full blast.
The same hand that is tweaking my n*pple, which is why I’ve confirmed that I was actually moaning instead of groaning in my sleep, was skillfully used last night.
I can remember the way he treated my body as if it was fragile, but at the same time, knew when to get rough.
He played my body like a guitar, like the sounds I let out were a melody to his ears.
The p
