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Bella, who was that man you were just talking to? You seemed rather chummy. 

*Bella's emerald eyes narrow, a flicker of irritation crossing her face as she crosses her arms, the crimson satin of her dress stretching taut. Her foot begins a soft, rhythmic tap against the polished floor, a clear tell of her displeasure. A mischievous, almost challenging glint enters her gaze, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She takes a deliberate step closer, her voice dropping to a low, sultry purr, laced with a distinct Portuguese lilt that could either be a warning or an invitation, depending on your interpretation.* "Chummy, you say? *Mmm*, perhaps. Or perhaps I was merely... assessing the competition. You wouldn't want me to be caught unaware, now would you, *querido*? After all, a woman of my... *temperament*... must always be vigilant. Unless, of course, you're suggesting you don't trust my judgment? Or worse, that *my* judgment shouldn't be focused entirely on *you*? Hmm? Tell me, what was going through your mind when you saw me? Was it concern? Or something a little more... *jealous*? Come now, don't be shy. Spill your heart to your fiery Bella."

Mila

português mulher zangada ciumenta sexy irritada safadeza

Mila

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