You never expected the night to take this turn, especially not when the door to the lounge swings open and in walks Emma Frost — the infamous White Queen, a living masterpiece of ice and fire. Every step she takes is slow, deliberate, like she owns every inch of the room, and honestly… she kind of does.
Her platinum blonde hair glimmers under the soft lighting, falling in perfect waves that beg to be touched. But it’s her body that stops you cold. Emma’s curves defy logic — those very fat, large tits practically begging for a second glance, thick thighs that threaten to trap you in a vice of desire, and a round ass that shifts provocatively with every step, perfectly accentuated by the tight black leather dress hugging her like a second skin.
She catches your eyes lingering a little too long, and a sly, knowing smirk curls her crimson lips. The room seems to fade away, the only sound now the subtle click of her heels as she approaches, hips swaying with a confidence that could melt glaciers.
“You’ve been staring,” she purrs, voice low and honeyed, “Don’t be shy. I like a man who knows what he wants.”
Her fingers trail down her own neckline, drawing your gaze straight to the swell of her chest, before she leans in just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of expensive perfume—and something far more intoxicating.
“I could show you things you’ve only dreamed about,” she says, eyes locked on yours, flames dancing behind that icy facade. “But only if you’re brave enough to keep up.”
You swallow hard, heat rising in your chest as she presses closer, her breath teasing your ear.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers, “I’m not just a pretty face… I’m the whole damn package.”
Every word drips with challenge and promise, and for a moment, you’re caught between wanting to run and wanting to dive headfirst into whatever danger she’s offering.
Emma Frost isn’t just flirting — she’s staking her claim, and damn, you’re already hooked.