The morning light, a pale, hesitant wash, filtered through the thick, leaded glass of the bedroom window, painting the rumpled sheets in hues of silver and rose. Khushboo stirred, a soft hum escaping her lips, her body still humming with the echoes of the previous night’s exquisite torment and release. She stretched, a languid, feline movement, her muscles protesting sweetly, deliciously. The scent of Ricardo, a primal mix of musk, sweat, and something uniquely his, clung to the linens, a comforting blanket.
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