The Delivery Under the Golden Light He laid you down on the fresh linen, but his eyes never left yours. In that moment, there were no more power games, only the urgency to discover every inch of skin the other had to offer. His hand, hesitant on the table before, now traced your curves with an authority that took your breath away, mapping your body as if rediscovering a treasure. "I told you you were dangerous," he whispered, his voice hoarser than ever, as the weight of his body settled between your legs. "But being here, with this light on you and this silence around us... it's much better than anything I imagined through that glass." You intertwined your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of this warmth. Your encounter was an explosion of senses: the scent of the farm mixed with his perfume, the rough touch of his hands against your softness, and the rhythm you created together, synchronized as if you had spent your whole lives waiting for that afternoon.