Third person’s POV,

The morning light flooded the kitchen, but the air was already thick with the scent of maple syrup and raw, lingering lust. Millie stepped onto the hardwood, her legs trembling slightly—a delicious soreness that reminded her of every brutal, deep thrust from the night before. She was draped in a set of black lace that was barely more than a suggestion of fabric, her heavy breasts straining against the delicate underwire, her nipples still sensitive and dark.