Plosh.
Their bodies collided again—wet, hot, and completely irrational.
Nathan thrust in without warning.
No tenderness. No foreplay.
Just raw impulse—wild and throbbing,
crashing into the Tower Manager's body like a tidal wave that didn't care who drowned.
The Tower Manager moaned— not out of pain, but out of theater.
Her eyes half-lidded, her mouth constantly moving.
"Tell me," she whispered between thrusts,
"do you enjoy the body of a woman who once mocked your worth?"
Nathan froze. His jaw clenched.
His hands rose—grabbing at the Tower Manager's dress.
Crak.
One brutal tug. The dress tore.
Two milk-white breasts burst into view—bouncing in sync with unfinished rage.
He grabbed both—like raw dough, ready to be destroyed for no reason.
The Tower Manager winced—somewhere between ticklish and seductive.
"Does… goodness… hold you back from satisfying your lust?"
Nathan's brows furrowed. Without thinking, he slapped one of her breasts.
Slap!
It quivered.
