Naiobe's smile is nothing if not predatory at the dryad's response. Instead of reaching for another piece of fruit, Naiobe slides her other hand up the dryad's side, her soft fingers caressing brown skin until they reach the swell of one breast. She cups her fingers around the dryad's breast, gently stroking the nipple, pinching and rolling it firmly, though not enough to pain the dryad.<br/><br/>"Open your legs as wide as you can," Naiobe murmurs, leaning back in her chair and shifting her fingers so that they have easier access to the dryad's soft lips. One fingertip traces a slow, steady line along the dryad's warm slit, until it reaches the subtle knoll of her clit. Naiobe does not actually touch the tiny bundle of nerves, but instead teases the skin around it, waiting to see how well the dryad listens.