The atmosphere in the spring was thick, not just with the humid, sulfurous steam, but with a tension so palpable it felt like a physical weight pressing against Nerith's skin. Even as she forced that small, airy laugh, that involuntary reaction intended to mask her chaos, her body was a traitor.
Under the water, her pussy was still throbbing, a heavy, rhythmic ache that refused to subside. The sensation of Rex stepping into the pool, the sight of his powerful silhouette breaking the surface, had acted like a match tossed into a keg of gunpowder.
Her lewd fantasies hadn't died, but they had simply been forcibly compressed, forced to hide beneath the surface of her "composed" druid persona.
'He's so close...' she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. 'He's right there.'
'Just a few feet of water away... and he has no idea that just moments ago, I was picturing him sucking t-that... branch....'
