The early morning sun filtered through the frosted glass window of the bathroom, casting a soft, golden haze over the steaming water. Ayat stood under the spray, her eyes closed, as lukewarm droplets cascaded down her delicate frame. But no amount of water could wash away the lingering fire on her skin.

Every nerve ending in her body felt hyper-aware. Her breasts felt impossibly heavy, her nipples still tender, swollen, and hypersensitive from the relentless attention of his mouth just hours ago. As the water traced down her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut, a helpless shudder running through her spine. Phantom sensations consumed her mind—the weight of his hands kneading her hips, his rough thumb rolling her peak, and the dark, intoxicating sensation of him suckling milk from her breast with raw, ravenous hunger.