Delphine lay herself back on the table, her breath already uneven, glasses set aside, eyes hazy and desperate with pure, aching need. Her robe was discarded carelessly, leaving her gloriously nude, her soft, creamy skin glowing in the golden flicker of candlelight.
Her luscious ass was raised high, round and trembling, the curves gleaming with sweat and anticipation, begging to be touched, tasted, worshipped.
Aether stood behind her like a god of desire, his broad hands coated in warm, fragrant oil, glistening under the light. His face was calm, controlled, utterly focused—like a true master of sensual therapy, a professional massage expert whose hands knew how to unlock not just physical tension, but the deepest sexual hunger buried inside a woman's soul.
No words—just the rhythm of her ragged breathing, trembling moans she tried to suppress, and the slick, lewd sound of oil meeting bare skin in slow, slippery rubs.
He began, as always, with professional grace.
