Even though she said that, she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. He was too handsome, too perfect, too overwhelming for her to handle direct eye contact.
Raven smirked slightly—he knew exactly what he needed to do. After countless experiments with women in his past world, he understood one fundamental truth: women were more easily tempted by emotional stimulus than pure physical attraction. They craved feeling cherished, protected, desired on a deeper level.
And he was about to give her exactly that by acting like her devoted lover.
His expression softened as he noticed the dark circles under her tired eyes. "Your eyes have dark circles," he observed gently, reaching out to brush his fingers along the delicate skin beneath her glasses. "Were you awake all night?"
The tender touch made her entire body shiver like a leaf in winter. When she spoke, her voice came out much softer than normal—like she was trying to sound beautiful and feminine rather than harsh.
"Kind of," she whispered, unconsciously leaning slightly into his touch without realizing what she was doing. "I needed to fulfill my projects."
She looked up at his face, studying his expression as it shifted to something genuinely sympathetic and concerned. Those incredible purple eyes seemed to look right through her, seeing the exhaustion and loneliness she tried so hard to hide behind her cynical artist facade.
"Why are you overexerting yourself?" he asked softly, his voice carrying real care.
Before she could even attempt to answer, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.
The effect was immediate and absolutely devastating.
"W-what are you doing?!" she gasped, her entire body flinching as her voice cracked with shock and something that felt dangerously like need.
"Paying you with my body," he said with complete innocence, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She tried to process what he meant, her mouth opening to say something—probably to protest or ask for clarification—but he sealed her lips with his own before any words could escape.
"Mmph!" Her eyes went wide as saucers as both his hands came down on either side of her head, essentially pinning her in place on the floor and giving her absolutely no chance to escape.
The kiss wasn't gentle or tentative like she might have expected from someone who seemed so considerate. Instead, his tongue invaded her mouth like he was claiming territory, fucking her throat with brutal efficiency that left her gasping and overwhelmed.
He dominated every part of her oral cavity with the skill of someone who'd done this countless times before. His tongue twisted and curled against hers in ways that made her toes literally curl inside her socks, the sensation so intense it bordered on overwhelming.
"Mmmph... ngh... ahhnn..." Muffled sounds escaped around their joined mouths as she found herself kissing back despite her complete shock and inexperience.
She tasted like energy drinks and late-night snacks, but underneath was something purely feminine that made his cock twitch with interest. Her small hands came up instinctively to grip his shirt, torn between the conflicting urges to push him away and pull him closer.
The raw intensity was absolutely intoxicating. No one had ever kissed her like this—like he was trying to devour her very soul through her mouth. Her eyes rolled back slightly as pleasure she'd never experienced before coursed through her body like liquid fire.
Without her noticing, his hands moved skillfully to the hem of her oversized hoodie. With the practiced expertise of someone who'd done this many times before, he began sliding it upward, the soft fabric bunching as he exposed more of her pale skin to the cool apartment air.
She was too lost in the mind-melting kiss to realize what was happening until suddenly the hoodie was completely gone, tossed aside like yesterday's trash.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was gasping like she'd just run a marathon, her lips swollen and glistening with their combined saliva. That's when the reality of her situation hit her like a freight train.
"W-where..." she looked down at herself in absolute horror.
She was completely naked from the waist up, her large breasts fully exposed to his hungry gaze. Her nipples were already standing at attention like hard pink peaks, clearly aroused despite her embarrassment.
Without the hoodie's protective coverage, he could see everything—the soft curve of her slightly chubby but feminine stomach, the way her generous breasts rose and fell rapidly with her panicked breathing.
Her underarms showed natural hair growth—she'd never bothered with extensive grooming since she never expected anyone to see her naked body.
Between her legs, a thick bush of black hair was visible through her thin panties, and she could feel that the fabric was already embarrassingly damp with arousal.
As his hand moved between her thighs, she felt him gently but firmly separate her legs apart. The sensation of his warm palm against her inner thigh caused her to flinch violently.
The sudden contact snapped her out of the kiss-induced haze and suddenly she was mortified beyond belief.
Tears broke from her eyes as she tried desperately to cover herself with her hands, not understanding how a simple kiss had led to her being half-naked and trembling with need.
"What... where is my..." she stammered frantically, looking around for her discarded clothing.
She didn't wear a bra even while working—comfort had always been more important than propriety when she spent eighteen hours a day hunched over her computer. She didn't even wear panties most of the time for the same reason. And now she felt absolutely mortified knowing exactly how she looked and smelled.
She was unwashed, ungroomed, having neglected basic hygiene for weeks while completely immersed in her artistic projects. Not having a boyfriend had meant personal grooming didn't matter to her—who was going to see or care?
But now this godlike man was seeing her at her absolute worst, and the shame was overwhelming.
Her teary eyes looked up at him, expecting to see disgust or disappointment written across his perfect features. Instead, she found him staring directly between her legs with an expression of pure masculine appreciation.
He took in every detail of her trembling form—the way her thick thighs pressed together in embarrassment, her soft stomach with its feminine curves, the generous breasts with their flat pink nipples pressed against her chest in arousal, the wild bush of hair between her legs that spoke of a woman completely comfortable in her own natural state.
"Finally," he said with genuine warmth in his voice, a note of deep satisfaction that made her heart skip several beats.
"A real woman who is exactly my type."