Wet wishes

Katala’s standing in front of the mirror like she’s suiting up for battle. Every strap, every slick of gloss, she’s got a mission: to own this hot guy and not let him walk away once he’s had a taste. She slides her hand down the curve of her hip, checking the mirror, lips twitching into a cocky little smirk. She wants him hungry before he even steps through the door, and she’s about to serve it up.