Not yet.

Bianca's eyelids felt heavy, but sleep remained stubbornly out of reach. She flipped onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow, then rolled to her side again, the sheets tangling around her legs. She finally surrendered, flopping onto her back with a frustrated sigh. The ceiling fan spun lazily above her, its rhythmic whir doing nothing to quiet the static in her mind.

Bianca's hands rested on the bed, the soft fabric of the covers a gentle reminder of her solitude. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner, and her thoughts were a jumble of emotions she couldn't untangle. She missed Robert, the familiar comfort of his presence, but the silence between them felt like a chasm she couldn't bridge. Ethan's words lingered in her mind, warm and flattering, yet they brought with them a wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her.

Without thinking, her hand drifted under the covers, her fingers brushing against the waistband of her pajamas. It was an innocent touch, born of restless energy rather than intent, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, before slowly slipping her hand beneath the fabric. The softness of her skin surprised her, and she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander. She thought of Robert, of the way he held her, the way he made her feel safe. But as her fingers moved, it wasn't just Robert she imagined. Ethan's face flickered in her thoughts, his confident smile and the way he called her "princess."

Bianca's fingers stilled, her breath hitching as memories of Robert's touch resurfaced. The last time they'd been together, the passion had been intense, a sweet, frantic moment after a day of moving. She recalled the way his hands had explored her body, the gentle kisses that turned urgent. Even now, the memory brought a flush to her cheeks. But as her mind wandered, Ethan's face intruded—his confident smile, the way he called her "princess." She gasped softly, her fingers moving instinctively, teasing her clit as she relived Robert's lips on her skin, the way he'd pulled out, his warmth spilling onto her back. The mix of emotions was overwhelming—guilt, desire, and doubt.

Bianca's fingers lingered, her breath uneven as the image of Ethan's shirtless form persisted in her mind. The guilt was overwhelming, yet she couldn't shake the allure of his confidence, the way he made her feel seen. She thought of Robert, of his gentle hands and reassuring presence, but Ethan's voice echoed in her thoughts, a persistent whisper that chipped away at her resolve. The room felt suffocating, the silence a heavy blanket that pressed down on her chest. She gasped softly, her heart racing as she imagined Ethan's hands on her skin, his lips tracing her neck. The fantasy was intoxicating, yet it filled her with a deep, gnawing remorse.

Bianca's fingers moved with a frantic urgency, her breath hitching as she imagined Ethan's strong hands roaming her body. The fantasy was vivid—Ethan above her, his confident smile replaced by a look of intense desire as he thrust into her, his big cock filling her completely. She gasped, the guilt and shame mixing with her arousal, creating a potent cocktail that left her trembling.

Ethan's messages flashed in her mind, his words dripping with sincerity. "You deserve so much better than someone who doesn't appreciate you," he had written, his words cutting deep into her doubts. She imagined him whispering those same words in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, as he took her again and again. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, her fingers moving faster as she envisioned the way he would make her feel—wanted, desired, and utterly his.

The room around her faded into a blur, her mind consumed by the fantasy. Ethan's hands were everywhere, his lips tracing her neck, his voice a low, commanding whisper in her ear. "You're mine, princess," he growled, his cock slamming into her with a **** that left her breathless.

Her fingers slid lower, trembling slightly as they dipped past her clit and into her slick entrance. The wetness surprised her—a physical testament to how deeply Ethan's fantasy had burrowed under her skin. She coated her fingertips, her breath catching as she brought them back to circle her swollen clit with renewed urgency. Soft, involuntary moans escaped her lips, muffled by the pillow she'd pulled over her face in shame. In her mind, Ethan's phantom hands replaced her own, his imagined grip possessive as he pinned her hips down and claimed her with rough, relentless thrusts. "Mine," he growled in her fantasy, and her back arched off the mattress as the coil in her belly tightened.

Guilt clawed at the edges of her pleasure when Robert's face flickered into her thoughts—his kind eyes, the way he'd held her after their first time, whispering promises against her hair. But Ethan's voice drowned him out, smooth and insistent. "He doesn't know you like I do," the fantasy Ethan purred, his teeth grazing her earlobe. Her hips jerked upward, chasing the friction as her fingers moved faster. The orgasm hit her like a stolen secret, sharp and bright, her thighs clamping around her hand as she bit down on the pillow to silence her cries.

Collapsing back onto sweat-damp sheets, Bianca stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving.

Bianca's eyelids grew heavy, the weight of her exhaustion finally overpowering the turmoil in her mind. She lay there, the faint hum of the air conditioner a steady backdrop to her thoughts, which still lingered on the fantasy she had just indulged in. The guilt was palpable, a heavy knot in her stomach that she couldn't ignore, but the relief was immediate, a temporary escape from the tension that had been building inside her. Sleep finally claimed her.