Nina's thighs squeezed together as the ache in her body intensified, her body a live wire of anticipation. Her mind swirled with a whirlwind of need, the pulse between her legs throbbing intensely.
Every fibre of her being wanted him to stop this game, to turn around, to pin Kafka against the nearest surface, and take him. She wanted to feel him lose control, to let his desires consume them both.
And Kafka's calm demeanour felt like a deliberate taunt, even if she knew better. She could feel his attention, his hunger simmering beneath the surface, masked by his composed exterior. He was holding back—for now. His self-control was a fragile thread, stretched taut by her teasing.
But just as she was thinking if she should pounce or not, her phone buzzed again. The sudden vibration jolted her out of her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen, her heart pounding wildly.
[Show me your lower garden, Nina...I want to see all of you.]