The night started like so many others lately—fierce, frantic, almost violent in its hunger. They’d barely made it through the front door after a long day before clothes hit the floor in a careless trail. Alex had pinned Maria to the hallway wall, one hand fisted in her hair, the other between her thighs, fingers curling inside her while his thumb circled her c**t with ruthless precision. She’d come fast, biting his shoulder to muffle the cry, nails carving fresh lines down his back. He’d carried her to the living room after that, bent her over the arm of the couch, and f****d her from behind with deep, punishing strokes until she was shaking and gasping his name like a prayer.
But when it was over—when they collapsed onto the rug in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs—something shifted.
Maria
