[ Pukin knows when not to push Angela, when she’s too tired, or when she’s not in the mood, but when those squishy thighs part a little for her... Pukin grins, and then nips gently onto the skin of her neck. She hums against Angela’s skin, breath hot on her flesh. ]

Mm. I told you, I simply can’t help myself... [ She sighs, and then her eyes move to where Angela’s laptop screen is, at those few tabs that are up. Per Angela’s request, Pukin looks up and away from Angela’s boobs: soft and large, and to her face instead, from underneath her lashes. ] I know you have work to do, but you’re stressed. I can feel it in your thighs.

[ Pukin’s hand rubs at her thighs a little more, and then dips down between them, brushing against the front of her crotch. ]

So tense. [ Partially because Pukin is loving up on her so intensely, but God, Pukin can feel that heat that Angela’s body is producing, and she wants it. She means what she said. Pukin wants her. ] Let me help you relax, baby. Work can come later, I promise you.

[ She’s framing it as if she’s not getting excited, herself, as if she’s not getting hard. ]