He had barely noticed her approach until she was right in front of him, positioning herself effortlessly on the edge of his lap. The sudden proximity made his heart spike, but her confident smile met his gaze before he could react. She didn’t rush, didn’t fumble—every motion was calculated, slow, teasing.
Her weight was gentle, yet deliberate, pressing against him in a way that made him hyper-aware of every curve, every line of her body. The warmth radiated into him, subtle but commanding, and the soft brush of her legs against his sent shivers through his spine. She leaned slightly, her chest just close enough to make him conscious of every breath she took, of the space she filled intentionally.
Her eyes held his, unwavering, and the faint smirk at the corner of her lips told him she knew exactly what she was doing. The shift of her body was slow, deliberate, letting him feel the pressure, the heat, the teasing dance between control and vulnerability. She adjusted slightly, leaning back just enough to maintain eye contact, allowing the memory of her presence to linger even more powerfully.
He wanted to move, to shift, but the intimacy of her proximity, combined with the confidence of her posture and the teasing in her glance, held him in place. Every subtle adjustment, every tilt of her body, was designed to maximize awareness, desire, and anticipation. When she finally rose, leaving only the memory of warmth and pressure, he was left acutely aware of how completely she had dominated the moment without a single word.