Oliver staggered back, one hand clamped over his gushing nose. His other hand desperately covered the bulge rising in his pants.
"Wh-what the hell!?" he stammered, eyes darting everywhere but always snapping back to her. "Put some clothes on, damn it!"
But she didn't.
Instead, she tilted her head and chuckled—a soft, throaty laugh that made Oliver's ears burn. Her long, silken hair draped over her shoulders, but it did nothing to hide her generous chest, which swayed with every slow, deliberate step forward.
Oliver's gaze betrayed him instantly. He tried to look at her face—he really did—but his eyes kept dropping lower, following the hypnotic bounce of her breasts.
'S-stop moving like that!' he screamed internally. His body wasn't listening.
She stopped right in front of him, towering slightly over his slouched, stunned posture. With a knowing smirk, she extended her hand toward him.
