She laughed—soft, low, the sort of little "fufufufu" that dripped mischief—as she settled fully on top of me. The moment her weight landed, I felt it: the raw, physical strength of her legs pressing me into the mattress. She wasn't just sitting; she was pinning me, anchoring my shoulders with the natural power in her hips and thighs. Looking up, I could see it in her eyes—predatory, amused—like I was a trembling bit of prey she planned to devour.
"You know why Rabbitmen got called the apex predators of mating?" she asked, voice amused and teasing as she lowered her hands to my chest. "Because even the best lover can be cleaned out by a rabbit. Even an inexperienced one can run someone dry. I can tell you're good. I mean, really good. That's impressive. But can you keep up with me?"
