[ oh but he really is a brute, isn't he? to make such implications about rubbing lotion over her front, to push her to be so bold and brazen as to whip off her top right in front of him — only for him to start off slow, and at her legs, no less! by now manuela's face burns with a redness that is not a result from any sun, and no less than thrice did she have to consciously stop her legs from trying to close and clench together at the knee. ]

My, you certainly are... thorough, [ comes her lofty remark, in a pointed enough tone that she is clearly referring to his agonizing pace here. though it is neither bark nor bite when one considers the way her breath instantly hitches when his fingertips briefly graze over a spot along her inner thigh, just above her knee. what is she, some blushing virgin maiden?? honestly.

she reaches for one set of bow-tied strings at her hip, tugging less-than-demurely as she meets him right in the eye. ]

Perhaps I ought to remove these too, hm? Tan lines can be awfully unattractive at times.