Aleysia hovered above her, breath heaving, chest rising and falling in rhythm with the charged silence between them. The dim, golden light cast shadows across Medusa's sculpted form, normally so powerful, commanding, and terrifying to others, now laid bare beneath her, undone in every sense of the word. Her skin shimmered with sweat, flushed and radiant, a sharp contrast to the cool sheets twisted beneath their tangled bodies.
Medusa isn't in control tonight, the seductress who wielded her gaze like a blade. Tonight, she is hers. Wholly, completely, undoubtedly.
And Aleysia couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop memorizing the way Medusa's lips parted in uneven breaths, the slight tremble in her thighs, and the way her golden eyes—still blazing with wildness—looked up at her with unguarded awe.
