Her imagination had painted a picture so vivid that her body responded with a hunger that was undeniable. She felt her core pulse with need, her skin alive with the electricity of their shared secret.
Edith's hand drifted down, her fingertips skimming the fabric of her own nightgown, feeling the slickness that had gathered between her legs. It was a sensation she had not felt in years, a testament to the power of love and desire.
The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of their need. Her eyes remained on the tableau before her, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could be. The sight of her grandson, the boy she had cradled in her arms, now a man claiming the woman she had shared a lifetime with, was a heady mix of love and lust that made her dizzy with longing. Her hand slipped beneath the fabric, her touch as soft as the petals of the flowers she tended so carefully in the garden. Her own moan melded with the silent atmosphere of the night.
Edith's hand stilled upon Elena's skin, her eyes snapping open as she felt a sudden jolt of reality. The scene before her shimmered and wavered like a mirage, the heat of desire giving way to the cold hand of doubt.
What was she doing? This was her son, her granddaughter. The thought was as chilling as a winter's wind, a reminder of the consequences that awaited them if they were to continue down this path.
Edith looked over at Jack, his features softened by the tender embrace of sleep. His youthful form was a contrast to the manly desire that had filled him only moments before. In the dream, she had watched him claim Elena, her son's need for his mother a mirror to the love she felt for him now. The line between what was right and what was natural had blurred, leaving only a landscape of raw, unbridled emotion.
With a quiet sigh, she slipped from the bed, her body moving with the grace of a ghost. The floorboards protested gently under her feet. She moved to the window, the velvet curtains parting to reveal the night outside. The moon hung low in the sky, a pregnant sphere of silver that bathed the garden in a soft, ethereal glow. The shadows played upon her face, painting a mask of contemplation as she pondered the love or should she call lust that had ensnared them all.
Jack's eyes fluttered open, the candle's embers casting a warm amber light across the room. He searched the darkness, his hand reaching out to find hers, but she was not beside him. He sat up with a start, the sheets pooled around his waist, and spotted her silhouette by the window. The sight of her, so small and fragile in the face of the vast night, filled him with a strange mix of tenderness and lust. He rose from the bed, his bare feet silent against the cold floorboards as he approached her.
Her beauty, even in the fading light of the candle, was undeniable. Edith's skin was etched with the stories of her life, to the love and pain she had endured. Her hair, a silver cascade that fell to her waist. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with a knowing that both thrilled and terrified him.
Jack's heart raced as he leaned in, his breath warm against her neck. The scent of her, a heady mix of lavender and vanilla, filled his senses, and he found himself lost in the maelstrom of his own desires. His lips met her neck in a soft kiss, the gentle pressure of his mouth sending a shiver down her spine. Edith's eyes closed, and she leaned into his embrace, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sound was like a key turning in a lock, releasing a flood of passion that had been dammed up for far too long.
They both could feel their lust increasing by the moment, the bond that was now overwritten by lust.