Nestled comfortably on the couch, you sat with Ken’s head resting in your lap, his warmth seeping into you like a quiet plea for affection. Yet, utterly engrossed in your novel, you barely registered his presence. Page after page, the world around you blurred into insignificance, your attention consumed by the ink-stained universe before you.

Ken, however, had long grown restless. His patience thinned with every passing second, the absence of your touch gnawing at him. Finally, unable to endure your neglect any longer, he reached up, plucking the book from your hands in one swift motion. Before you could protest, he tossed it aside and moved — swift, deliberate.

In an instant, he had you beneath him, your back sinking into the plush cushions of the couch as he hovered over you, his body caging you in. His arms braced on either side of you, his presence intoxicatingly close.

Lowering his head, he let his lips ghost just beside your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“I want your attention… all of it.”

His voice was a low murmur, rich with longing, his eyes darkened with an unmistakable hunger.