blanc noir pov: Tales of Mystery, Courage, and Triumph

blanc noir pov begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so blanc noir pov becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In blanc noir pov, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in blanc noir pov, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that blanc noir pov worked better than any sleeping pill.