In the dimly lit bedroom, a woman with raven hair as dark as the night sky lay on the satin sheets. Her name was Leyla, a middle eastern beauty with curves that could make any man’s heart race. Her voluptuous figure was accentuated by the loose shirt she wore, which barely contained her massive breasts. The room was filled with a sensual tension, as if the air itself was waiting for what was to come.
Leyla’s long black hair was spread out on the pillow, a cascade of darkness that framed her face. Her brown eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, and her full lips were slightly parted. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the silky strands slip through her fingers.
As she lay there, she heard the door open and close softly. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. She could feel his presence in the room, and she smiled to herself.
