The Lawson Estate was shrouded in deep quietness, the late hour lending an almost sacred stillness to the night. Moonlight streamed through elegant French windows, bathing the room in a soft, silvery glow that infused the air with a peaceful and magical atmosphere. The nocturnal breeze gently swayed the silk curtains, casting alluring shadows on the polished wooden floor.

Alone in the oversized bed, Marianne lay fast asleep, the moonlight revealing her soft legs as the sheets slipped from her body. Suddenly, the large wooden French doors creaked open, admitting a mysterious figure into the room. Pausing to take a deep breath, his eyes filled with complex emotions, he leaned against the door, which closed quietly behind him.

Observing her peaceful slumber, the figure hesitated briefly before approaching the bedside. His presence evoked intrigue and tension, his intentions unclear in the stillness of the night. Suddenly, he unbuttoned his shirt and unclasped the buckles of his pants, his actions shrouded in mystery and emotional depth.

Marianne felt her body tingling, unfamiliar sensations slowly pulling her from a deep sleep, unsure if she was dreaming or awake. Something warm and wet covered one of her exposed breasts, while a faint yet intense sensation, like a finger massaging her inner thighs, overwhelmed her. Struggling for air as the intense sensations began to arouse her while she tried to make sense of her blurry surroundings.

Suddenly, the teasing finger withdrew from her soft, wet parts. Before she could comprehend what was happening, something that felt like a tongue pressed against her, she gasped for air, shivers coursing through her body. Unconsciously, she pushed her head back, one hand gripping the sheets while her other fingers tangled in the soft curls between her legs, urging her mystery lover to continue ravishing her.

Her mind felt clouded, unable to grasp the situation around her fully. This couldn't be a dream; these sensations felt too vivid. What is happening? As she pondered, a large hand gently pried her fingers away, and the mysterious figure lifted his head from between her legs, allowing the moonlight to reveal his face.

"Gregory?!" she nearly screamed, shocked. "What are—" Her words were cut short as he didn't respond and hovered over her body. She felt a sharp pain between her legs as something much larger than a finger entered her. No! This couldn't be—was he? Her mind struggled to make sense of the agony pulsing through her body. Her heart hammered against her chest as she held her breath, the pain intensifying with each passing moment.

"It hurts," she whimpered, gritting her teeth, tears welling in her eyes. There was no mistaking it—he couldn't be using his—it felt too large, too agonizing!

"Shh. It's okay, babe," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. But as their lips met, she caught a whiff of the strong, bitter scent of alcohol on his breath. "Just relax," he muttered with a strained groan, continuing to thrust into her despite her anguish.

Hearing his soothing voice, she felt her body relax as the pain subsided, replaced by a growing sense of desire that elicited unconscious moans from her.

She couldn't believe it had been three years since she married Gregory. Their union was an arranged marriage, or as he termed it, a "forced" marriage, devoid of any romantic gestures—until tonight. In his intoxicated state, he was finally engaging with her intimately. Why was he drunk? What had sparked this sudden change of behavior? Will he recall any of this in the morning? These questions swirled in her mind, begging for answers.

"What are you thinking about?" he breathed softly into her ear, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

"I'm just wondering if this is real," she replied, stroking his face.

"What about this?" With renewed vigor, his thrusts became harder and faster, overwhelming her senses. "Don't forget to breathe," he reminded her, showering her face and neck with kisses, her body tensing with each passionate movement.

Amidst the overwhelming pleasure, happiness began to intertwine with her sensations.

I love you, Gregory. I have loved you for a long time now. She smiled as their eyes locked, thoughts of confession interrupted by waves of pleasure that swept her mind. His urgent thrusts propelled her toward an elusive climax, each moment heightening their connection.

He buried his head in her shoulder, a muttered curse slipping past his lips as a final thrust brought them to a trembling peak of ecstasy.

Minutes later, still entwined, she summoned the courage to reveal her most guarded secret. It was a risky move, but she felt determined. "Greg, I lo-"

"Jane," he murmured hoarsely, slipping into a deep sleep.

Hearing that name sent a chill through her body. A surge of disgust, hurt, and violation swept her. She wanted to push him off her and escape into the night, away from this painful betrayal.

How could he?! Tears streamed down her cheeks.