Ryan woke to the sensation of wet, consuming heat.
The transition from the heavy, dreamless sleep of exhaustion to absolute physical clarity was instantaneous.
He lay flat on his back against the sprawling expanse of the king-sized mattress, allowing his sensory network to process the environment before he even opened his eyes.
The heavy silk sheets were pushed down past his thighs.
The chilled, conditioned air of the penthouse washed over his bare chest, a sharp contrast to the searing, frictionless glide wrapping around the thick length of his morning erection.
The rhythm was slow, devout, and painfully exact.
He opened his eyes.
The bedroom was bathed in the pale, slate-grey light of a November morning. Rain lashed steadily against the floor-to-ceiling glass, a low, rhythmic drumming that insulated the room from the noise of the waking city.
