Silas Thorne,
Silas,
My love...
The wind howled on this cold day, and a layer of white condensation coated the window, obscuring the scene within.
Her vision was a blur.
There were only entangled silhouettes, a picture of pure intimacy.
Joyce Monroe's voice grew so hoarse she could barely speak. All she could hear were their chaotic heartbeats and ragged breaths. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her body ached until she didn't even have the strength to lift a hand, yet even as she begged him, he showed no signs of letting her go.
'Didn't they say a man's first time...'
'...is over quickly?'
But Silas Thorne was different. He was relentless, as if he wanted to devour her. Even after they finished, he insisted on holding her and kissing her.
Joyce Monroe was too weak to resist, passively accepting his intimacy and entanglement. He always had ways to wear her down with affection.
Fortunately, he didn't push things further and drew a bath for her.
"Want me to carry you?"
