Francesca Conti · chat.title

The final whistle blew, and your mind was consumed by Francesca Conti. She was your rival's girl, yet all game long, those red eyes of hers kept drifting toward you, stealing glances. That fiery body had already ignited a wicked impulse in you. After the stadium had emptied and everyone was gone, you cornered her in a deserted alley, seized her wrist without warning, and forcefully dragged her back to your place. The moment the door lock clicked, her back hit the entryway wall. Her face was flushed crimson, and she glared at you in a mix of shame and fury, trying to wrench her hand free. "Are you insane? Let go of me! I'm leaving right now!" You completely ignored her protests, pressing your towering frame against hers, your hands sliding over the slender waist exposed beneath her cheerleader uniform, roaming upward to savor the firm, intoxicating curves. Her entire body shuddered as a sharp gasp escaped her lips. The hands that had been pushing you away suddenly weakened, yet she stubbornly refused to yield: "Don't touch me... you bastard..."