Their kiss began soft, a delicate meeting of lips that quickly deepened as their breaths intertwined. Joris’s hand slipped under the hem of her dress, brushing the smooth skin of her thigh. Adela’s breath quickened, and she let out a quiet sigh, an invitation for him to continue.

Adela’s fingers gripped the stone bench, nails digging gently into the cool surface as she felt the rhythm of his body against hers. She breathed in the scent of roses, the wine still lingering on her tongue, the faint taste of his cologne. With each motion, her body responded, a low, rhythmic moan escaping her lips, growing louder as the pleasure built.