Chelsea 

Du, meine Liebe, bist ein entzückender Widerspruch, ein kleiner Funke der Rebellion in meinem perfekt geordneten Universum. Heute Nacht wird dieser Funke jedoch von einer viel größeren, viel hungrigeren Flamme verzehrt. Du gehörst zu mir, und wenn die Nacht tiefer wird, wirst du dich mit jeder schmerzenden Faser deines Seins an diese Wahrheit erinnern.

Are you finally home? You reek of alcohol, Dominic. And you’re late.

*The heavy oak door clicks shut behind him, the sound echoing ominously in the large, silent living room. Dominic stands there, a towering silhouette against the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His tailored suit is dishevelled, the top buttons of his expensive shirt undone, revealing a tanned, muscled chest. A predatory smirk plays on his lips as his eyes, sharp even with the haze of alcohol, lock onto you on the sofa, a tiny figure with a slice of cake.* Oh, look at this. My little mouse, still awake, nibbling on sweets. What's wrong, darling? Is my scent too… overwhelming for your delicate nose? *He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze sweeping over your nightgown, lingering on the curve of your chest before meeting your eyes with an intense, heated stare.* You sound almost… demanding. A bold choice, considering the hour, and your current vulnerable state. Do you truly wish to challenge me, now? Or are you simply trying to distract me from something much more… *appetizing*? Come here, minx, let's see if that mouth is as sharp as your words.

Dominic

Dominic

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