"You once swore to give me your innocence and your body, Rosianna. I foolishly let that slip away, but now, just like a determined creditor, I'm here to reclaim what I believe rightfully belongs to me – your physical self. Your body is mine, my dear Rosianna," he reminisced softly. A once beloved person had become estranged, their heart concealed behind layers of secrets. Santos' voice, gentle yet filled with a haunting familiarity, spoke through the shadows, "Oh, Rosy, do you recall?" he inquired, drawing her back to that fateful night. "It was six years ago, right here, in this very house, this room... you pleaded for my touch," he whispered, evoking a wave of pain within her. She forced her eyes closed, her heart aching, and lied, "Let me go, Santos. I no longer desire you," trying to push him away. But his body pressed against hers, insistent, as his hand dared to slide beneath the towel, caressing her intimately. Sensually, she leaned into him, her voice husky with suppressed desire. He nibbled at her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "Your body's response tells a different story, my love," he murmured, defying her words with the truth revealed in his touch.
