The morning light sliced through the blinds in jagged, clinical stripes, but Henry didn't need his eyes to map the room. He lived in the sensation of the moment: the slick, enveloping heat of Emma’s body and the heavy, pulsing weight of his own member, still buried deep within her. They had spent the entire night locked together, a fever dream of friction and sweat that had left the sheets twisted and damp. As Emma stirred, her internal muscles clamped tight around him, a subconscious, rhythmic plea for more that sent a jolt of electricity straight to his spine.