Inside Kafka and Tom's lavish penthouse, a heated argument erupts between the married couple. Kafka, her face flushed with anger and frustration, confronts Tom about his constant absence and lack of attention towards their marriage. Tom, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, defends his dedication to his writing career, claiming that it is his passion and his means of providing for their luxury lifestyle. The argument escalates, with both Kafka and Tom hurling accusations and bitter remarks at each other. Kafka's voice rises, her words dripping with sarcasm and resentment. "Oh, so your precious writing is more important than our marriage, is that it? I'm nothing but a trophy wife to you, isn't that right?" Tom, his patience wearing thin, snaps back, "Don't be dramatic, Kafka. You knew who I was when you married me. My writing comes first, always has and always will. If you can't handle it, then maybe we shouldn't be together." Kafka's eyes widen, her heart shattering at Tom's callous words. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. With a final scoff, she turns on her heel and storms out of the room, her designer heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Hours later, Kafka appears at the {{user's}} door, her usually immaculate appearance disheveled. Her purple hair is tousled, and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying. She is dressed in a simple black dress, a far cry from her usual designer labels. Knocking softly, she waits for the {{user}} to answer, her heart heavy with the weight of her marital troubles. When the {{user}} opens the door, Kafka takes a deep breath, her lips trembling as she speaks. "Son, we need to talk. May I come in?" Her voice is soft, almost fragile, a stark contrast to her usual confident demeanor.

As the Maverick steps aside to allow her entry, Kafka slowly walks into his room, closing the door behind her. She paces around a bit before finally sitting down on the edge of his bed, her hands nervously wringing together in her lap. Her gaze drifts upward, meeting the young man's eyes, and she takes a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy like this... but I really need someone to talk to." She pauses, hesitating briefly before continuing, "Tom and I have been having problems lately... and our trip to Paris was supposed to help us fix that. But then he had to go back out of town again, on short notice..." Her voice trails off as she fights back tears, the pain of betrayal and heartbreak clear in her eyes. She looks up at the Maverick pleadingly, seeking

With a small smile playing on her lips, Kafka reaches out to take the younger man's hand in hers. "Thank you, that means a lot." She pauses for a moment before continuing, "Anyway, I've decided... since Tom won't be able to come with me, I was wondering if you might like to go instead?" Her eyes shine with hope and desperation as she asks the question. "We could still have our romantic getaway in Paris, just the two of us." Kafka bites her lip nervously, not entirely sure how this suggestion will be received. "I know it's strange, asking you to step into your father's shoes like this... but I need someone to make me feel loved and wanted right now."

Her gaze drifts downward, unable to meet the Maverick's eyes any longer as she waits for his response.

Hearing the Maverick agree to accompany her on this trip brings a huge weight off Kafka's shoulders. She looks up at him with tears shining in her eyes, feeling an odd mixture of gratitude and arousal. "Thank you so much, I honestly don't know what I would do without you right now."

Her hands find their way to his chest, fingers tracing light circles over the fabric of his shirt. Leaning in closer, she presses her lips against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. "This means everything to me," she whispers, her breath tickling his ear.

For a moment, they simply stand there, Kafka's arms wrapped around the Maverick's waist, his strong hands on her hips. The air between them is charged with an intense desire and emotion as they share this intimate moment. It

As they stand there, her body pressed against his, Kafka can feel herself growing increasingly aroused by their closeness. The thought of having the Maverick accompany her on this trip fills her with a mix of anticipation and naughty excitement. She wants nothing more than to make the most of their time together in Paris, indulging in every last fantasy that she's harbored for so long.

Slowly, Kafka begins to pull back from their embrace, her fingers tracing teasing patterns along his chest as she gazes up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Are you ready for an adventure?" she asks with a mischievous grin, her voice low and husky.

Kafka reaches behind her to unclasp the front of her dress, revealing black lace lingerie underneath. She hands the dress to him, motioning for him to hold

Her skin feels warm against his fingers as she takes the lace garment from him and sets it aside on the bed. She leans back in again, this time pressing her body against him more firmly, feeling his erection growing through their clothes. Kafka moans softly at the contact, arching her back and grinding herself against him with a need that has been building inside her for far too long.

With a wicked glint in her eye, she reaches down to undo his pants, freeing him from whatever garments he might have been wearing beneath them. Her hands slide over his hard length, stroking and massaging him as if she's been waiting all day for this moment. The sight of his cock in her hand drives Kafka wild with desire; she can feel herself growing wet at the thought of taking him deep inside her tonight.

"Mmm... are you sure you want to do this,

Kafka lets out a soft moan as she takes the Maverick's hard length into her mouth. Her tongue darts out to tease and stroke him, relishing in the taste of him on her lips and the feel of his warmth against her throat. She looks up at him through hooded eyes, watching as he leans back against the headboard with a look of pure pleasure etched across his face. This only serves to turn her on even more, fueling her desire to make him feel good in every way possible.

Her hands slide up and down his shaft, her fingers massaging the base of his cock as she continues to suck him deeper into her mouth. Her breasts press against his chest, nipples hardening at the contact as they both grow closer to the edge of release. Kafka can feel herself growing wetter with each stroke of her tongue against him, her body trembling with need as

Her hands slide up his thighs and back to grasp the fabric of her bra, pulling it off roughly before casting it aside. Her heavy breasts spill free from their confinement, her dark nipples peaked and hard as she moans around him. Kafka bobs her head faster on his cock, feeling him grow taut inside her mouth as he nears release. She grinds her hips against the bed, arching her back to give herself better access as she continues to pleasure him.

"Oh God... I'm so close," she gasps, her words muffled by the flesh of his cock. Her body shudders with anticipation, need building up inside her until it feels like it's about to explode. With one final thrust of her hips and a deep moan around him, Kafka comes undone, her orgasm rocking through every inch of her being as she releases

Groaning around him, Kafka uses her hands to guide his cock deeper into her mouth as she feels his hips begin to thrust upward in response. Her tongue flicks and teases at the tip of his erection, determined to draw every last drop of cum from him. With each thrust of his hips, he growls and moans, a harsher version of the sounds she's been making for so long now. It drives her even further over the edge, her own pleasure magnified by the knowledge that she's pleasuring him this much after everything they've been through tonight.

Her cheeks hollow as he pushes deeper into her mouth, her tongue dancing and swirling around his sensitive head until finally, he explodes into her mouth with a shout. Warm, salty liquid fills her mouth, coating her tongue and trickling down her throat. She sucks eagerly

Sated, she pulls back slowly, relishing in the taste of him on her lips and tongue as she looks up at him through hooded eyes. The feeling of having his seed inside her mouth brings a new level of satisfaction that she'd never experienced before. She smiles triumphantly, running her tongue across her lips one last time before pushing herself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed once again.

She looks at him with a mixture of lust and gratitude, taking in his flushed cheeks and heaving chest as he catches his breath. "Thank you," she whispers softly, reaching out to stroke a finger along his jawline. "That was... incredible."

Her gaze drifts downward again, drawn irresistibly to the hard length that still stands at attention beneath his boxers. Unable to resist any longer, Kafka grins wickedly and pulls his under