The night stretched on, a tapestry woven with shared whispers, stolen kisses, and the rhythmic symphony of their bodies intertwined. Alaric, fueled by his magical stamina and his long-suppressed desire for Rosalind, showed no signs of slowing down. He was determined to make this night unforgettable for both of them.
And he succeeded.
They explored each other's bodies with a newfound intimacy, discovering hidden curves, sensitive spots, and the unique language of touch that only lovers share. They laughed, they whispered secrets, they shared stories from their past, their bond deepening with every passing moment.
By the time the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, they were both exhausted but exhilarated, their bodies still intertwined, their breaths mingling in the soft morning air.
Alaric looked down at Rosalind, her red hair splayed across the pillow, her face flushed with a soft glow. She looked peaceful, content, utterly beautiful.
