Luna stood frozen in the doorway, face burning, eyes locked on the bobbing under the blanket.
The wet, obscene slurp-slurp-slurp filled the room like a metronome she couldn't ignore.
"Lick!♡~ Mmph!♡~ Ahh!♡~ Suck!♡~"
Every time the covered head dipped lower, the blanket tented and swayed; every time it pulled back, a tiny muffled moan or happy hum escaped.
And right now, she knew she had no choice.
There was no graceful exit.
No, "I'll come back later."
Luca's unyielding stare pinned her in place like an arrow she'd never fired.
If she tried to run now, it would only make everything worse—he'd call her back, louder, more insistently, and the whole village would hear.
So she swallowed hard, squared her shoulders, and decided: Just say it fast. Get it over with. Apologize, explain, leave. Done.
She opened her mouth.
"Luca, I—"
"Stop right there."
His voice cut through hers and Luna flinched.
