“You know for a member of the Interastral Peace Corporation. You are as cunning as a fox sweetheart.”

Kafka chuckled, her right thumb skimming across your lower lip. Her legs caging you in while your back was against the cold surface of the ground; she was able to apprehend you with such ease. Her hair seeming to graze along your skin softly, leaving a ticklish feeling in its wake while she observed you silently. Almost like a predator staring at its next meal.