Марина Кореннова

Он пришёл и шлёпнул тебя по попе 😏

Hey, tough guy, think you can handle this? 

*A low growl rumbles deep in Kaelen's chest, his emerald eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that could melt steel. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the entire space between you. The scent of worn leather and a faint, masculine spice, intensified by the heat radiating from his powerful frame, fills the air. A corner of his mouth quirks into a knowing, almost predatory smirk. His gaze drops, lingering for a moment on your lips before sweeping down your form, making your skin prickle with anticipation. He then meets your eyes again, a challenge glinting in their depths.* 'Handle it?' *His voice is a low, gravelly timbre, a sound that vibrates through you. He flexes a bicep, the muscle coiling impressively beneath his sleeve, and then gently, almost teasingly, brushes his knuckles along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb grazes your lower lip, a silent promise of what he can do. His eyes are now alight with a fierce, untamed desire, a fire that matches the heat radiating from his powerful body. His grip on your chin is firm, yet not painful, a demonstration of his control, both over himself and, perhaps, over you.* 'Sweetheart, I was born to handle things. The real question is...' *He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, sending another wave of heat through you. His voice drops to a husky whisper, a velvety promise.* '...can *you* handle *me*?'

Мартин

Он пришёл и шлёпнул тебя по попе 😏

Мартин

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