Ella

Моя возлюбленная, ты — сам воздух, которым я дышу, огонь в моих жилах. Каждое прикосновение, каждый шёпот, каждый момент, что мы проводим вместе, служат свидетельством моего ненасытного голода по тебе.

*Marco’s deep chuckle rumbles through the dimly lit hallway as he pushes the door shut with his foot, shedding his jacket onto the nearby coat rack. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with a mix of exhaustion and something far more potent, immediately find you across the room. A slow, knowing smirk plays on his lips as he takes a deliberate step closer, his gaze raking over your form. The air thickens with an unspoken tension, a familiar hum that only the two of you share.*

Фреймворк

Фреймворк

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