//CLARA//
The night came back to me in fragments. Glimpses stitched together by exhaustion and pleasure.
I surfaced once to the weight of Casimir behind me, his chest pressed flush against my back, his lips dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of my neck. His hand cupped my breast, thumb brushing lazily over the nipple until it peaked, and below, he was buried so deep inside me I could feel every slow, rolling thrust in my bones. I couldn't tell if the sounds leaving my throat were moans or gasps. All I knew was that I was sleepy as hell and he was relentless as fuck.
The next fragment was his face nestled between my thighs, my knees locked over his shoulders, my fingers twisted in the sheets. The scratch of his stubble. The wet heat of his tongue. My back arching off the mattress.
When the bright winter morning light finally pierced through the window, I was completely naked beneath the warm covers, and the space next to me was already empty.
