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The apartment was small but intimate—a dim lamp on the nightstand threw a soft pool of light across the bed, and the city’s distant hum seeped through the thin curtains. Erin’s fingers traced the line of my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. She pressed a kiss to my lips, slow and exploratory, tasting the metallic edge of excitement on my tongue. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm that matched the quickening beat of our hearts.

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She lifted one leg, the heel of her stiletto catching the edge of the couch. As she lowered it onto the floor, she turned slightly, giving you a clear view of the curve of her hips and the soft, inviting shape of her inner thigh. The look in her eyes was unmistakable—she wanted this, she wanted you, and she trusted you. The apartment was small but intimate—a dim lamp

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“Come on,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “I’ve been waiting for you.” The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm

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She arched her back, the curve of her spine accentuating the curve of her hips, her breath coming in short, excited gasps. Her fingers tightened around your hair, pulling you deeper, encouraging you to maintain a steady pace. The world narrowed down to the feeling of skin against skin, the sound of her name whispered through your lips, and the rhythmic thump of the music echoing in the background.