Inmediato

The room was bathed in soft light, filtered by the shades of the bedside lamps. She lay on the large bed with its pristine white sheets, her head tilted slightly back. Her long black hair was spread in disarray across the pillow, and her mouth was parted in a trembling breath. Her right hand lifted the hem of her white T-shirt—printed with a small pink teddy bear—revealing her firm breasts. The man’s fingers—he was wearing a watch with a black strap—held her raised thigh, opening her body to him. Her pink-and-white checkered boy-shorts were pulled to the side, offering barely an obstacle. He thrust into her with deliberate, almost cruel slowness. Each movement made her flat stomach quiver, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She gazed at him through half-closed lashes, her cheeks slightly flushed, as if pleasure took her by surprise with every deeper thrust. Outside, the world kept turning. Here, in this soft, pink room, there was nothing but the rustle of sheets, the sound of skin meeting skin, and the irregular pounding of her heart against her exposed chest.