~ Niamh ~
My eyes fluttered open lazily, the morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room.
For a few seconds, I just lay there, suspended in a state of blissful, heavy exhaustion.
My body felt different. It was sore, an aching stiffness deep in my bones and muscles that served as a loud reminder of exactly what had happened on these sheets.
I felt thoroughly fucked, my skin still tingling with the ghost of his touch, and for the second time in four days, a sense of pure, blissful satisfaction washed over me.
All thanks to Massimo.
The memories of the night began to surface, rising in my mind like a flood I couldn't stop. Every detail was vivid, every touch was burned into my memory.
I could still feel the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, the way his rough hands had gripped my wrists, the sound of his voice—dark and low—whispering dirty, possessive words against my skin that had made my blood boil.
