"W-what are you doing?" River asked, his voice breaking slightly as Freya straddled him. His eyes shook with disbelief, fixed on her figure looming above. Her chest swayed lightly as she straightened her back, posture proud and domineering, as if announcing victory without saying a word.
River swallowed hard, throat tightening against his will. Two perfect peaks hovered above his line of sight, framed by the victory smile on Freya's lips. A sharp realization struck him—he was no longer the hunter in this exchange. The tables had turned.
He knew he hadn't come here for this. His plan was simple: tease Freya, shake her composure, make her lose that mask of control she always wore. He wanted to remind her that she wasn't untouchable. And for a moment, he succeeded—he had seen her flustered, caught off guard. But in less than a heartbeat, she had seized control again, and now, he was the one pinned down, trapped beneath her weight, both physically and psychologically.
