the reaper who reaped my heart: The Ultimate Story of Dreams and Discovery

In the soft glow of bedside lamps, the reaper who reaped my heart begins with her lying on crimson silk, wrists lightly bound with the same fabric. The camera lingers on every shiver as gentle fingers trace the curve of her waist, teasing lower with deliberate patience. Her breath catches when lips finally meet the inside of her thigh, the first of many gasps that fill the room. the reaper who reaped my heart captures the slow build, the way her back arches when pleasure finally crests, hips lifting off the bed in silent demand. By the time the second wave hits, she’s trembling, whispering pleas that the lens catches in perfect close-up. the reaper who reaped my heart ends with her spent limbs tangled in ruined sheets, a satisfied smile proving the night belonged entirely to her desire.