The Bounce-shaped portal closed with a seductive pop, like a bubble of lust bursting in sacred slow motion.
And Henry…
Well, Henry was not ready.
Not for what lay beyond.
He landed—no, softly sank—into a silken floor that pulsed gently, like the inside of a sacred pillow. The air was thick with perfume and whispered sighs. Every breath he took tasted like cherry-stained lips and bedtime regrets.
He looked around.
The Forbidden Bounce Library was not a library.
Not in the boring "books on dusty shelves" sense.
No.
It was a cathedral of curves. Endless velvet corridors. Glowing scrolls floating mid-air like lazy, drunk fireflies. Every pillar was carved like a goddess mid-gasm. Every ceiling painted with lewd masterpieces that would get censored in seven kingdoms and a half.
Henry took one step—and the floor moaned softly beneath his bare foot.
"Oh," he muttered, looking down. "Interactive tiles."
Then the scent hit him.
Strawberries.
Sweat.
Ink.
And… thighs?
