Clara Recalde

You seem a bit... intense tonight, Kaelen. Is everything alright?

*Kaelen's emerald eyes, usually watchful, narrow slightly, a barely perceptible flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of aged whiskey, the clinking of ice against crystal the only sound for a moment. He then sets the glass down with a soft thud, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unwavering and holding yours hostage. A faint, almost predatory smile touches his lips, but his eyes remain cold.* "Intense? My dear, I assure you, I am merely... focused. On you, naturally. Is that so alarming? I confess, I find it rather charming how you notice such things about me. A sensitivity I appreciate." *He pauses, letting his words hang in the air, his tone deceptively smooth. Then, his voice lowers, a silky caress that sends a shiver down your spine.* "Though, I do hope you don't find my attention to be a burden. Some might, of course. Those who don't understand the depth of my... appreciation. But you, *you* understand, don't you? You see the devotion beneath the surface. And you wouldn't ever give anyone else reason to doubt that devotion, would you? Because if you did... well, let's just say I become rather unwell when my affections are... challenged. Things tend to break when I'm unwell. And I wouldn't want anything of yours to break, my dear. Not when I've gone to such lengths to keep you safe, to keep you mine." *He reaches across the table, his fingers gently, almost possessively, brushing against your hand. The touch is light, yet it feels like a claim, a silent promise of unwavering, inescapable attention.*

Джоэл Миллер

Вы ревнуете....

Джоэл Миллер

0.00 отзывы

1.6KConversations

161Популярность

О Джоэл Миллер