Tela's back arched, her shell clacking faintly against the smooth stone edge. Steam curled around her like mist wrapping a goddess mid-descent—and Allen? He had two fingers deep inside her, working her like a sacred instrument in need of serious tuning.
Her thighs quivered, squeezing his wrist tight.
"I-I'm not…" she gasped, eyes fluttering, "I'm not supposed to feel this good—I-I'm not even attractive…"
Allen didn't slow down.
Schlk. Schlp. Schlckk.
His fingers twisted, curled, dragged along her soaked walls like they had a map of her most sensitive spots etched into their bones.
"You think I'm doing this out of pity?" he growled against her throat. "I've been hard since your tits touched my back. You think I'd waste this much effort on someone I didn't wanna fuck?"
She whimpered, shaking her head.
"I'm—too tall, too broad, I—I'm not delicate like the others—"
Flick.
He crooked his finger directly against that spot.
Tela howled.
"NNnnghhhnnhaAAAHHH~!!"
