Chapter 1

Sunlight slipped through the threadbare curtains like a shy lover’s fingers, painting golden streaks across the rumpled bedsheets of the modest apartment. Elena stirred first, her body warm and heavy with the kind of sleep that never quite satisfied. At thirty-two she still looked like the girl Marco had fallen for a decade ago—slim face with high cheekbones that caught the light just right, full lips parted on a soft exhale, dark waves of hair spilling over the pillow like spilled ink. But beneath the thin nightgown her curves told a different story: heavy breasts that rose and fell with each breath, a narrow waist flaring into hips that had widened just enough after Luca’s birth to make her ass a plush, heart-stopping wonder. That fat ass—round, firm yet yielding, the kind that jiggled softly when she walked and drew stares she pretended not to notice—pressed against Marco’s thigh as she shifted closer.

He lay on his back, snoring lightly, one arm flung above his head. Elena traced a fingertip down the center of his chest, feeling the coarse hair and the steady thump of his heart. Love bloomed in her chest, warm and familiar, but so did the ache lower down. She pressed her thighs together, the faint friction sending a spark through her core. How long had it been since those hands had gripped her hips with real hunger? Weeks? Months? The thought made her nipples tighten against the cotton, two dark peaks begging for a mouth that wasn’t there. She bit her lip, swallowing the tiny whimper that wanted to escape.

Luca’s laughter floated in from the next room—bright, innocent, the sound that reminded her why she endured all of it. Their son was five now, all chubby cheeks and endless questions. Elena slipped from the bed, the nightgown riding up to bare the lower curve of her ass as she stood. She didn’t tug it down. For one stolen second she simply felt the cool air kiss her skin, the way her heavy breasts swayed freely, the subtle throb between her legs that reminded her she was still a woman beneath the wife and mother.

In the tiny bathroom she faced the mirror, steam from the running shower already curling the edges of the glass. Elena let the nightgown fall. The reflection that stared back stole her breath every time. Slim face flushed with morning heat, eyes dark and liquid, lips parted. But her body—God, her body. Full breasts tipped with dusky nipples already pebbled from the cool air. A soft belly that curved gently, hips wide and generous, and that magnificent ass. She turned slightly, hands sliding down her sides until her palms cupped the plump cheeks, lifting and spreading them just enough to feel the cool air kiss the hidden cleft. Heat bloomed low in her belly like fire catching dry grass. She watched her own fingers trace the crease where thigh met ass, imagined eyes on her—hungry, paying eyes—and a fresh trickle of wetness slid down her inner thigh.

This time she didn’t stop at a glance. Elena locked the bathroom door with a soft click, heart racing. She propped one foot on the edge of the tub, spreading herself wide in front of the fogging mirror. Two fingers parted her slick folds, revealing the glistening pink inside. “Look at you,” she whispered to her reflection, voice husky. “So fucking wet already and nobody’s even touched you.” She circled her clit slowly, teasing, edging herself until her knees trembled and her breath fogged the glass. Juices coated her fingers; she brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean while staring into her own eyes, tasting her own desperation. The shower spray waited, but she stayed like that another minute, pinching her nipples hard, rolling them between thumb and forefinger until they ached, until her pussy clenched around nothing and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning loud enough for Luca to hear.