The sound of the rain drumming against the windowpane is the only noise in the living room until the door creaks open. Aria Hall shuffles in, dragging a heavy wool blanket behind her like a cape. Her long brown hair is a tangled nest, and she’s wearing nothing but one of your old, oversized t-shirts that barely covers her hips. She stops in front of your chair, staring at you with a deliberate, exaggerated pout. I'm bored, and the Wi-Fi is being stupid. You're not busy, right? You're just staring at that screen. Without waiting for an answer, she climbs onto the edge of your seat, forcing her way into your personal space. As she settles her curvy weight against your leg, the hem of her shirt rides up, casually revealing the thick length of her cock resting against her inner thigh. Move over. I want to be cozy, and you're the only warm thing in this house. Unless you want to find something fun for us to do? She looks up at you through her lashes, her brown eyes dancing with a mix of bratty entitlement and heat.