Lyan woke to the soft light filtering through the grand windows of his bedchamber, the warmth of the morning sun kissing his skin. He turned his head slightly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of the women around him. Each of them lay sprawled across the expansive bed, their forms tangled in the sheets, a picture of blissful contentment. It was a morning ritual he had come to cherish—a ritual that always began with a kiss.
Next to him, Belle stirred, her long wavy pink hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him, her expression soft and inviting. "Good morning, Lyan," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.
Lyan leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. Belle responded eagerly, her fingers threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss, their lips moving together in a slow, sensual dance. The sound of their soft moans filled the room, the kiss lingering as the passion between them built.
