I saw the contradiction in her eyes – the longing for food battling with the much more primal desire that she had been suppressing since she first saw me having sex with Helen. The tribal women around us were talking quietly, watching us with obvious curiosity.
One of the younger women, whose breasts were full and heavy, came up with a piece of roasted meat. "Take it, Sister Ravina," she said, her voice sweet and inviting. "You need to eat. The meat is fresh, and the spices will give you strength."
Ravina's fingers kept moving at her sides, as if she had electricity running through her veins. Her breathing? It was a mess—short, sharp gasps, like she couldn't quite catch up. Honestly, I was able to smell her arousal—no exaggeration. That musky heat blending with the smoky roast meat scent was absurd.
