Phoebe's POV
A sultry atmosphere filled the dimly lit bedroom upstairs.
On the king-sized bed draped in crimson sheets, two bodies pressed together intimately.
Harold's rough, breathless sounds mixed with desperate whispers for relief.
Heat flushed my cheeks as overwhelming need consumed my gaze.
"Harold, stop..." I attempted to flee, crawling forward on trembling hands and knees.
But I'd barely managed one movement before his strong arm circled my waist, dragging me back against him.
Harold's tone carried dark amusement. "Baby, stay still. Don't fight me."
I threw my head back and released a shuddering cry.
The hours stretched endlessly, moonlight streaming bright, until we were both spent.
The passion on that massive bed finally ended in the early hours before dawn. I felt completely hollow, too weak to even shift my limbs.
Meanwhile, Harold—who'd been relentless all night—still radiated energy. The marathon session hadn't fazed him at all.
