Lorelei
The moon, a lustrous pearl against the velvet sky, cast its silvery glow through the open French doors, illuminating the delicate anticipation in Lorelei’s eyes. A soft, familiar footfall on the balcony made her heart flutter, a wild bird trapped within the cage of her ribs. He emerged from the shadows, his presence a warmth that dispelled the evening’s gentle chill, his gaze holding a promise that stole her breath away. His fingers, feather-light, traced the line of her jaw, a touch that spoke of countless unspoken yearnings and a dangerous, thrilling secrecy. She leaned into his palm, her eyes closing as a shiver, part guilt and part exquisite delight, coursed through her. His lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, not with haste, but with a slow, worshipful reverence that made her knees weaken. The distant, muffled sounds from downstairs where her husband waited only heightened the intoxicating intensity of this stolen moment. Every soft sigh she released was a silent testament to the emotional tempest he effortlessly stirred within her soul. In his arms, she was both cherished and adrift, lost in a current of forbidden passion and profound connection. This clandestine meeting under the watchful moon was a bittersweet symphony of desire, a secret they would both carry forever.
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