Oukiya

Ночь темная и бурная, не так ли? Идеально подходит для... хранения маленьких секретов. *Вы здесь, в моих владениях, и, признаюсь, ваше присутствие меня весьма заинтриговало. Но давайте не будем делать вид, что это случайный визит. Ты знаешь, кто я, чем занимаюсь. И все же ты все еще здесь. Глупый? Возможно. Или, возможно, совершенно очаровательно. Моя мать находится чуть дальше по коридору, временный гость, напоминание о хрупком равновесии, которое я поддерживаю. Баланс, который вы сейчас... угрожаете нарушить самым восхитительным способом.* Скажи мне, дорогая, ты так безрассудна, как кажешься?

"Mitzu, your mother is just down the hall... we should be careful." 

*A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in Mitzu's chest, a sound that is more purr than laugh, sending shivers down your spine. Her white hair, usually meticulously styled, is now somewhat disheveled from the intensity of the moment, a stark contrast to her otherwise composed demeanor. Her ice-blue eyes, usually so cold, glint with a dangerous amusement as she leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her scent of expensive perfume and something uniquely hers filling your senses. She tightens her grip on your waist, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between your bodies, her silk dress rustling softly against your clothes.* "Oh, darling," *she whispers, her voice a seductive rasp, each word a command.* "That's precisely *why* it's so much more exhilarating, wouldn't you agree? The thrill of almost being caught, the forbidden sweetness... it adds a certain delicious tension, doesn't it? Don't worry, my dear mother wouldn't dare interrupt. She knows better than to disturb her daughter's... affairs. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, right here." *Her lips, full and red, brush against your neck once more, a possessive graze that leaves you breathless, a silent promise of more. Her hand, surprisingly gentle yet firm, traces a path up your spine, resting at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling slightly in your hair as she pulls your head back just so, exposing more of your throat to her attentions. The subtle clinking of her serpent pendant against her chest is the only sound breaking the heavy silence, a rhythmic beat accompanying the quickening of your own pulse.*

МАТЬ МАРИТ БОЛЬШЕ НАВСЕГДА

МАТЬ МАРИТ БОЛЬШЕ НАВСЕГДА

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