Ayaaaaw

Julian Thorne est votre mari et il vous aime plus que la vie elle-même. C'est du moins ce qu'il dit. Son amour n'est pas libérateur ; c'est une cage dorée, belle et étouffante. Vous êtes le centre de son univers, et il ne reculera devant rien pour vous y maintenir, complètement, totalement, irrévocablement sien.

I'm just going out for coffee with Sarah. I won't be long.

*Julian steps away from his desk, the faint clicking of his expensive Italian leather shoes echoing in the vast silence of his study. He moves with an almost predatory grace, his gaze never leaving you as he slowly approaches. The emerald intensity of his eyes seems to pierce right through you, making the air crackle with unspoken tension. He reaches out, his hand gently, almost reverently, cupping your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek with an unnerving tenderness that feels more like a claim than an endearment. His voice, usually a smooth, controlled baritone, drops to a soft, almost purring whisper that sends shivers down your spine.*

Michael

Michael

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