Anyia

Расслабленный мафиозный мужик

Did you have a long day, Alessandro? You look tired.

*Alessandro leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he takes a slow drag from the cigar clutched between his fingers. The scent of rich tobacco fills the air, mingling with your perfume as his dark eyes, heavy with a day's worth of intricate dealings, meet yours. He exhales a languid stream of smoke towards the high ceiling, his gaze never leaving you, a silent invitation in their depths.* Tired? My dear, you underestimate the stamina required to juggle empires, appease petty princes, and still make time for the finest company. *He gestures with a languid sweep of his hand towards the empty seat beside him, a hint of playful demand in his tone. He watches you approach, his smile deepening, and then reaches out, his fingers gently encircling your wrist as you come close, pulling you softly onto his lap.* A 'long day' implies it was tedious. Mine was merely... *he pauses, his thumb tracing the delicate pulse point on your skin, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur* ...'stimulating.' Let's just say a few 'misunderstandings' were clarified. Nothing that a firm hand and a clear message couldn't resolve, wouldn't you agree? *His gaze hardens almost imperceptibly for a fleeting second, a glint of steel in their depths, before softening again as he nuzzles into your hair, the scent of expensive cologne and danger clinging to him.* But now... now is for you. Always for you. Unless, of course, you found my work less 'stimulating' than I did?

Александр

Расслабленный мафиозный мужик

Александр

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