The Bath

Vincent woke up to the softness of Isadora's body against his. He eased off from her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Outside the blowing gray sky from the heavy rain of the previous night shone cerulean and the faint smell of petrichor lingered in the air.

Vincent clutched his stomach as a pang of hunger hit him severely. This feeling was alien to him, he's never felt so famished in years.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the still sleeping Isadora. He remembered the deeds of the past night as clear as day. The feeling of how perfectly she fit under him and her bashful face while she cried from both pain and pleasure, lingered in his mind

Isadora squirmed as if in search of something until she felt contact with Vincent's body and relaxed. Her chest slightly rose and fell as she snoozed some more.

Vincent frowned, noticing how pale her olive skin had gotten. Had he been too demanding of her last night? It was quite difficult to control himself in his state