Natalia held my gaze for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. The room felt supercharged, like the air before a lightning strike. Then, with a defiant tilt of her chin, she gripped the hem of her camisole and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The garment landed somewhere behind her, forgotten.
My lungs seized. She sat before me in nothing but black silk shorts and a matching lace bra that struggled to contain her. The cool air in the room hardened her nipples into tight points visible through the delicate fabric. A small, sharp gasp escaped her lips at the sensation.
"God damn," I muttered under my breath, my control hanging by a thread. I forced my breathing to remain steady, my expression neutral, but inside I was a hurricane of lust. Every cell in my body screamed to cross the room and take her.
Aphrodite materialized directly between us, her tiny wings beating frantically with excitement. Yes! See? That's how you play! she crowed, clapping her diminutive hands. Now make her take off the rest! Make her beg for you!
I stood up, legs unsteady from sitting cross-legged for so long. Natalia tracked my movement like prey watching a predator, her body tensing slightly as I walked past her to my desk. I picked up my phone, scrolled through my music library, and selected a track—something with a slow, grinding bass line that filled the room with pulsing sound.
"Dance for me," I said, leaning back against the desk.
Natalia's eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me." I gestured to the open space between us. "Dance."
For a moment, I thought she might refuse. Then she rose to her feet, her movements liquid and graceful despite her obvious nervousness. She stood awkwardly for a few beats, swaying slightly to find the rhythm.
Aphrodite floated up to my ear. She won't do it, the goddess whispered. She's too proud.
But Natalia surprised us both. As the beat settled into her bones, something shifted in her posture. Her eyes closed briefly, then reopened with a new intensity. Her body began to move with the music, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence.
This wasn't a club dance or a choreographed routine. This was something far more primal, more intimate. Her hands slid up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. Her hips rolled in slow, hypnotic circles that made my mouth go dry.
"Holy shit," I whispered, grip tightening on the edge of the desk.
Her fingers traced the edge of her bra, teasing at the clasp between her shoulder blades. Her eyes never left mine as she unhooked it with a single twist of her wrist. The garment slipped down her arms and fell to the floor.
The sight of her bare breasts knocked the air from my lungs. Perfect, full, with dusky pink nipples puckered tight from arousal. A wave of pure, animal hunger crashed through me, nearly buckling my knees.
Look at her, Aphrodite crooned in my ear. So beautiful. So desperate for your touch. Don't you want to feel her skin beneath your hands?
I did. God, I did. Every inch of me ached to cross the room and claim what she was offering so brazenly. But that would mean losing our game, and I'd be damned if I broke first.
Natalia continued her dance, hands roaming her own body now with increasing desperation. She cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples, her head falling back with a soft moan that sent a jolt straight to my groin. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, lost in sensation, then snapped back to mine—dark, pleading, almost feverish.
"~Haaahhh~"
I remained motionless, though it cost me every ounce of my willpower. My breathing had grown ragged, my skin so sensitive that even the brush of my clothes felt like sandpaper. My entire body was a raw nerve, exposed and throbbing. The effects of the pill had reached their zenith, turning even the most innocent sensations into exquisite torture.
Natalia's dance grew more frantic, more erratic. Her rhythm faltered as the combination of the pill, the emotional exposure, and her own unfulfilled desire overwhelmed her. She stopped moving abruptly, her chest heaving with labored breaths. Tears of pure frustration welled in her eyes, glistening in the low light.
"I can't..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, Satori... please..."
The naked need in her voice nearly undid me. Seeing the proud, fierce Natalia reduced to begging was intoxicating. Aphrodite gave a small, triumphant laugh and flitted around the room in circles of golden light.
She's breaking, the goddess sang. Look how beautiful she is when she surrenders.
Natalia stood frozen for a moment, her internal struggle written across her face. Then, with visible resolve, she took a single, trembling step toward me. Then another. And another. She crossed the invisible boundary we'd established between us and stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"I..." she started, then swallowed hard. Her eyes locked with mine, vulnerable yet determined. She reached out, her hand trembling visibly, and placed her palm flat against my bare chest.
The moment of contact was cataclysmic. A collective, shuddering gasp echoed through the room—from her, from me, maybe even from the watching goddess. The sensation was beyond description, beyond comprehension. Like touching a live wire, like diving into arctic water, like the first sip of water after days in the desert—overwhelming, shocking, desperately needed.
In that moment of contact, something fundamental shifted between us. This was no longer just a game of willpower or a battle for dominance. This was surrender in its purest form—a confession, an offering, a plea.
I looked down at her hand on my chest, then back up to her eyes. Whatever control I'd been maintaining shattered like glass. The facade of detachment fell away, leaving only raw, unfiltered hunger. My lips curled into a slow, predatory smile.
"You lose, Princess."
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