I need a volunteer to put his mouth on my nipples

She's already decided you're the one. Her eyes stay on yours while her fingers trace the curve of her breast, nudging the fabric aside just enough to expose what she's been offering since the title first caught your attention.

The nipple stiffens before you even touch it — responding to the cool air, to your stare, to the specific weight of being watched this closely. Her chest rises with a slow breath that reads less like patience and more like a dare.

Your mouth. Right there. She's not asking twice.