The candle burned low and uneven when Elena stepped into the room. Thick smoke curled upward from the melting wax and drifted across the ceiling in slow gray ribbons. The light was weaker than before, painting the bed and the walls in deep gold and long black shadows. Marcus stood near the headboard with the soft black rope already in his hands. He was shirtless. His jeans hung open. The thick shape of his dick pressed hard against the fabric.
βLock the door.β




















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