Ilaria did not realize she was crying until a tear slipped sideways into her hair. Her breath fractured, coming apart in short, helpless pulls as something inside her tipped with a slow, dreadful inevitability that made her fingers dig into his shoulders as if she were afraid of being swept away.
It was happening again.
"Ah—" The sound broke in her throat, unfinished, unguarded.
She tried. Gods, she tried to control herself. But the feeling swelled again, deeper this time, not sharp like before, but vast, rolling through her until her body bowed beneath it, her mouth opening on a sound she could not stop. Her eyes wavered then, unfocused, panic flashing there for a heartbeat.
She had never imagined it like this.
She had been told pleasure existed in the conscientious, reverent language reserved for married women, but she never knew it could unravel her so much. The way it asked nothing of her body except surrender. The way it made her feel seen rather than taken…
