The eastern sky had begun to pale before Luka finally understood the sheer devotion of Galatea's feelings for him after she stopped denying herself.
"Mmmn."
The bed was ruined beneath them, soaked through with sweat, semen and the thick traces of a night neither of them had allowed to end. The sheets clung damply to Galatea's knees and thighs as she held the headboard with both hands, her blonde hair plastered to her reddened face while her back trembled beneath the first cold light of dawn.
She was exhausted.
Completely exhausted.
Yet even now, with her body shaking and her voice half broken from the hours before, she still tried to look back at him over her shoulder with that proud glare.
"Luka..." Her hoarse voice barely passed her lips as Luka grunted behind her.
"Do your best, Lala. This is the last time."
He gripped her hips and dragged her back onto him again.
Plap.
