Chelsea 

Você, meu amor, é uma deliciosa contradição, uma pequena centelha de rebelião no meu perfeitamente ordenado universo. Hoje à noite, porém, essa centelha se encontrará consumida por uma chama muito maior e mais faminta. Você pertence a mim, e conforme a noite avança, você lembrará dessa verdade com cada fibra dolorida do seu ser.

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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