The gentle, marathon session of lovemaking left Griselda utterly depleted in the most blissful way possible. When Alaric finally let sleep claim him beside her, she was already deep in an exhausted, contented slumber.
The morning sun climbed high, filling the luxurious bedroom with light, but Griselda didn't stir. The previous night… or rather, the night and the following morning… had taken its toll. Her body, though thoroughly pleasured, ached with a deep, satisfying soreness. She remained lost in dreams, cocooned in the soft bedsheets, her breathing deep and even.
She drifted in and out of consciousness through the day, vaguely aware of the passage of time, but too deeply tired to fully wake. It wasn't until the sun began its descent again, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of orange and purple in the early evening, that Griselda finally surfaced fully.
