Powerless to Resist

In the early morning, as the world was still, the sky barely bright, and the dark night was beginning to fade, the first rays of dawn slowly awakened the creatures of the earth.

The old house was filled with a peaceful and quiet atmosphere.

The curtains in the guest room left a narrow gap, just enough for the sunlight to sneak in.

The dappled sunlight spread along the gap, spilling onto the soft, spacious bed.

Cynthia's dark hair was spread across the pillow, the ends of her eyes red, exuding an unconscious charm. Her fair skin was dotted with ambiguous marks.

She had originally been worried about Tristan's injuries, but who would have thought that it would give someone the opportunity to take things further?

A night of passion left Cynthia feeling like a traveler in the desert—exhausted and drained, with no strength left.

When the phone rang, she closed her eyes and rubbed at it.