A few moments ago,
Cruxius held the pen between his fingers with a casual grip that didn't match the heaviness in the air. He leaned forward, the sleeve of his buttoned shirt brushing slightly against her wrist.
His other hand steadied Seleyena's open palm—small, trembling, her fingers twitching as if she could already feel what he was about to ask of her.
Her blouse had been shoved down earlier in a moment of reckless heat, bunched just beneath her exposed, perky breasts.
Now, they were completely bare—flush against the still air, nipples stiff and flushed, betraying every breath and beat of her racing pulse.
Faint red marks lingered across the milky white, swollen, puffy skin—some like the remnants of a hungry mouth, others finger-shaped and swollen, drawn across her skin like bruised constellations.
The right nipple was redder than the other, slightly puffed as if recently pulled or bitten.
