Roy Lewis hugged her soft waist and asked softly.
"Did you draw this?"
Richelle Dunn hummed, "I haven't held a paintbrush for so long that it always feels off when I draw..."
Roy's other hand held her soft, boneless hand that was resting on his chest.
"No, it's drawn very well. Is this me in your eyes?"
Richelle rested her chin on his shoulder, "Not entirely, it's still a bit off..."
Richelle's voice, still carrying the stickiness and softness of just having woken up, and her soft body pressed against Roy's back, stirred up his desires.
"So am I a bit worse than the one in the drawing?"
Richelle clicked her tongue, "How could that be possible? The person in the drawing is always worse than you, just a tiny bit off."
Roy could no longer restrain himself, turned around, held her, and pecked her lips a few times.
"Is it because the person in the drawing can't kiss you or hug you?"
His warm hand, carrying a hint of greed, measured her curves.
