Aureve's face was flushed red, not just from the alcohol, which was already reeking off her skin in heavy waves, but from the heat that had started rising deep within her the moment they sat alone together. Her pussy was getting wet just from the thought — the idea that a young, strong, and devastatingly handsome man might take her tonight if she played her cards right.
And it was already rare for a woman her age to grow wet so easily, especially without foreplay… but here she was, soaked at just the thought of him. A dead giveaway. A humiliating, dangerous sign of how needy she was, and how very much alive her body still was, despite the years.
The room had quieted, but her heart hadn't.
Aureve sat across from him now, both of them perched on the edge of the guest bed — the same one barely used unless nobility dropped in, now becoming a silent witness to the fire growing between them. The vodka bottle rested between them like a sleeping dragon.
