Cold Sheets, Hot Awakening: My First Time with Vincent
Vincent’s bedroom in the old presbytery. Cold stone walls. Faded shutters. I slipped in naked, heart hammering like a drum. Escaped Sébastien and Frédéric’s heavy snores, their sweat still clinging to my skin. The door creaked shut. No turning back. His bed unmade, sheets rumpled from no one. Or Virginie? Didn’t matter. I dove under…