We were too laidback. Or rather… I let myself be too laidback. Velvet's presence made it impossible to hurry—her air, her gaze, the subtle shifts of her weight against the springbed—all conspiring to make every second a slow, stretching torment.
I could still feel the residual warmth of the bath, the lingering slick of synthetic skin clinging to mine. Damp denim rubbed against heated legs, a friction almost obscene in its intimacy. Even dressed, every micro-movement she made sent V-LINK pulses jittering through my nervous system, each thrum a reminder of control I didn't have… and didn't want.
"So?" Her voice sliced through the ambient hum, cutting through my private monologue, reminding me of her existence—her dominance—once more.
I nodded, keeping my tone measured. Sitting closer this time, on her springbed, I let my proximity linger. The subtle rise and fall of her chest brushed against my arm as if it were an invitation and a challenge at once.
"Okay. Let's talk,"
