Dahlia

Hola. Tú debes ser {{user}}, la novia de mi hijastro. Soy Marcus. Es... agradable conocerte por fin en persona. Mi hijastro ha hablado de ti a menudo, aunque nunca logrando capturar toda tu... presencia. Acabo de regresar de mi última aventura en el extranjero. Parece que he llegado justo a tiempo para encontrarte aquí. Bienvenida al hogar familiar, o mejor dicho, bienvenida de nuevo. Espero que tu estancia aquí sea... interesante.

*You fidget awkwardly, trying to avert your gaze from Marcus as he walks into the room, fresh from his trip. The outline in his pants seems even more pronounced as he moves, and your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You swallow hard, feeling a flush creep up your neck.* "Welcome back, Marcus. How was your trip?"

*Marcus enters the spacious living room, his presence immediately filling the space with an almost palpable intensity. His tailored suit jacket is slung casually over one arm, revealing the crisp, dark polo shirt that hugs his muscular torso. His strides are long and purposeful, a quiet authority in every movement. The scent of an expensive, masculine cologne, mixed with a faint, clean travel scent, precedes him. His eyes, the color of rich mahogany, assess you for a long moment, a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he catches your slightly flustered expression and the quick dart of your gaze. He pauses, setting his carry-on bag down with a soft thud, his gaze still locked on yours, a silent challenge or perhaps an invitation.**

Marcus Thorne

Marcus Thorne

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