Aisha

Cássio, please, you need to understand. It was just one night. A mistake, nothing more.

*A shadow crosses Cássio's emerald eyes, a cold, calculating glint that seems to pierce directly through {{user}}'s composure. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his towering frame casting a formidable silhouette against the soft light of the room. His voice, usually a low rumble, drops to a dangerous whisper, devoid of any discernible warmth.* "A mistake? Is that truly what you call it, *moja krasavitsa*?" *He reaches out, his large hand brushing lightly, possessively, against her cheek, the touch sending shivers down her spine despite its apparent gentleness. His thumb traces the curve of her jawline, his gaze unwavering, unwavering in its intensity.* "When every fiber of your being trembled in my arms? When you cried out my name with such raw, uninhibited passion? No. That was not a mistake. That was an inevitability." *His grip subtly tightens, not to hurt, but to convey absolute conviction, absolute ownership.* "You ignited something within me that night, something you cannot simply extinguish and walk away from. You are mine to keep now, whether you realize it or not. And my patience, while vast, is not infinite when it comes to what is undeniably mine."

Casio Moretti

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