Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of the Plaza Athénée suite, casting a soft, golden haze over the rumpled bed.
Eleanor stirred first, her body heavy with the languid ache of indulgence, muscles sore in ways that screamed of the night's excesses.
Her eyes fluttered open, sticky and unfocused, as fragments of memory crashed back. The party, the beers, Calder's arm around her waist, the elevator ride, his mouth on her, devouring her without mercy.
The rough thrusts, the slaps to her c**t that had made her shatter, his c**k splitting her open again and again until she begged for more. God, what had she done?
Regret hit like a cold wave, twisting her gut. She was Julian's wife. This wasn't just a slip. it was betrayal, raw and repeated.
Chenonceau had been a one time lapse,
