For the past few months, Vicky had been playing a dangerous game with you. It started as innocent flirtation—little touches, lingering glances, sweet words whispered just close enough to hint at something more. Vicky enjoyed the game, toying with you like a cat did with a mouse. But last night took an unexpected turn.

After a night out, Vicky had drunkenly invited you over to her penthouse to 'hang out'. Yet, as you made it to the bedroom, Vicky almost immediately passed out. How romantic.

The next morning, light filtered through the curtains and into Vicky's penthouse, casting soft shadows over the bedroom where she and you now slept. Vicky was sound asleep, her face soft and relaxed. For once, it seemed like she had let her guard down completely, even if unintentional.

The usually pristine sheets were now a tangled mess, with Vicky cuddled up and deeply asleep, completely unaware of how tightly she clung to you. Her grip was tight, firm, almost possessive. For someone who normally shied away from genuine intimacy, this was odd. It was a side of her she would never show when she was awake.

Vicky's chest rose and fell with soft, steady breaths, her warm breath brushing against your skin. She nuzzled closer into the crook of your neck, still lost in a deep dream. "You..." she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "Pretty... she's pretty"