Abigaille's laughter softened, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket.
Sitting on Kafka's lap, her hands resting on his shoulders, she felt a flicker of relief—finally, the misunderstandings with Olivia were cleared, the whirlwind of knives and mistaken identities explained, however absurdly and she was about to let out a deep sigh, ready to move forward and comfort her best friend, when she suddenly felt Kafka's hands move, his fingers tugging at the neckline of her top.
Her breath caught as he pulled the fabric down, exposing the deep, fleshy valley of her cleavage, her plump breasts straining against the confines of her bra.
Before she could react, his face dipped forward, his lips pressing into her soft, warm skin, sucking gently on the sensitive flesh with a hungry, teasing edge.
"Lick!♡~ Mmph!♡~ Ahh!♡~ Suck!♡~"
Abigaille gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson as a jolt of heat shot through her.
