The moon hung fat and silver over the Mediterranean, turning the sea below the cliff into a sheet of liquid mercury. It was past midnight, deep enough that the world felt hushed, intimate, like the night itself was holding its breath.
I stood on the terrace in nothing but the moonlight, skin still flushed and tingling from what Julian had done to me against the mirror an hour earlier. My thighs ached in the best way. Between them, I could still feel the slow, warm leak of his c*m, a filthy reminder that made my core clench every time I shifted my weight. The camisole and shorts lay abandoned inside. I hadn’t bothered to dress again. Why would I? He’d already seen and tasted every inch of me.
Julian appeared in the open terrace doorway as if he belonged there, naked as the day he was born
