Olga rose from the stone bed, her soaked clothes clinging tight as she walked toward Leon. The fabric molded itself to her body — her thin blouse pressed against her bare chest, the soft shape of her breasts outlined beneath, dark brown nipples faintly visible through the wet cloth.
Her white wet skirt wrapped around her thick thighs, the dampness tracing every curve without mercy.
She stopped in front of Leon, close enough that he could see the drops sliding down her collarbone, disappearing into her cleavage.
With a gentle motion, she brushed her wet hair back from her face.
"Leon… I'm wet," she said softly, her tone neutral.
'Control, You can't just slam her down to the ground, tear her clothes apart and fuck her like some stupid lust driven beast.
Wait, who is stopping- No, No... That's wrong.' Leon thought as his jaw tightened, his stare shamelessly roaming all over her body and his dick making a huge tent in his pants.
