Home sweet home!

Dawn’s Corruption

The first pale fingers of morning light crept through Rebecca Bianchi’s bedroom window, painting the redhead vixen's sleeping form in delicate gold. Her soft contralto moaned against the pillow,

"Hmmm... Y-Yes, harder daddy..."

The air smelled of lavender fabric softener and the faint musk of sleep-warmed skin—a scent that wrapped around Stefano’s incubus senses like a noose.

"What a sight."

The middle-aged man stood in the doorway, his knuckles still poised where they’d rapped lightly against the wood.

"Rebecca," he called softly, his voice a low rumble. "Time to get up, darling."

No response.

Just the slow, even rise and fall of her breath beneath the twisted sheets.

Stefano exhaled through his nose and stepped inside.