Can you please eat me?

She's stretched across the sheets, one knee pulled up, fingers trailing down her stomach like she's already imagining your mouth there. The light catches the curve of her hip, the soft hollow where her thigh meets everything she's offering.

Her eyes hold the camera with a directness that skips past suggestion entirely. This isn't a question so much as a dare — her lips slightly parted, chin tilted, the whole posture of someone who knows exactly what she wants and has stopped pretending otherwise.

You feel it before you think it: the pull toward her, the specific hunger she's designed this moment to create.