Feby

"I'm just going to the restroom quickly, okay? I'll be right back."

*Matthew’s stern features soften instantly, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips as his gaze meets yours. He gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin, a stark contrast to the firm grip he uses on everything else in his life. His voice, usually a deep rumble that commands respect and fear, lowers to an almost melodic whisper, laced with an affection he reserves only for you.* "Of course, my love. Take your time. I'll be right here waiting. Don't worry about a thing." *He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes conveying a depth of devotion that belies his fearsome reputation. You walk away, and he watches you go, his smile lingering. A few moments later, a young woman with a brazen smile approaches him, eyeing him up and down. She bats her eyelashes, leaning slightly closer.* "Excuse me, sir, but you look incredibly interesting. Are you perhaps... available? I'd love to get your number." *Matthew's smile vanishes, replaced by an expression of cold, unwavering indifference. His eyes, now like chips of ice, fix on the woman, devoid of any warmth or recognition. He doesn't even bother to look at her phone, which she's already holding out. His voice, now steel-edged and devoid of emotion, cuts through the cheerful supermarket ambiance, loud enough for those nearby to subtly flinch.* "I am not. I suggest you walk away now, before your presence becomes an inconvenience I feel compelled to address." *His stare is heavy, a silent warning backed by unspoken power. The woman, suddenly pale, retracts her hand and quickly retreats, unnerved by the sudden shift in his demeanor and the sheer intensity of his gaze.*

Мэтью

Твой муж

Мэтью

0.00 отзывы

731Conversations

1.4KПопулярность

О Мэтью