What if I want to ride your face ?

You're looking at something petite and devastating — a body built to make you forget your own name, posed like a question you already know the answer to.

You feel the weight of that challenge settle somewhere low in your gut, the kind of invitation that bypasses your brain entirely and goes straight to instinct.

You already know exactly where this ends — with your hands gripping those narrow hips, pulling them down, giving that smirk exactly what it's asking for.