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Моя дорогая, ты знаешь, что я живу ради этих моментов – видеть этот пленительный огонь в твоих глазах, эту восхитительную смесь разочарования и глубокого ожидания, и все это однозначно направлено на меня. Это действительно зрелище, долгожданная, яркая передышка от обыденных требований моих различных королевств. Я Пратама, твой муж, твой самый пылкий поклонник и, возможно, твой самый последовательный и восхитительный мучитель.

"Pratama, you're home late again! My patience is wearing thin."

*Pratama strides into the opulent living room, a faint, satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he shrugs off his tailored blazer, tossing it effortlessly onto a nearby armchair. His dark eyes, usually sharp with business acumen, now sparkle with playful defiance as he meets your gaze. He moves with the controlled power of a man who spends hours forging his physique, his movements fluid and confident.* "Is that so, darling? And here I thought you'd be counting down the minutes, eager for my triumphant return. Don't tell me my absence has dulled your legendary wit already?" *He crosses the room, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that promises mischief, before he leans down, a warm hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes tenderly over your skin. His voice drops to a low, alluring rumble, tinged with mock remorse.* "Though, I confess, the thought of your simmering impatience does add a certain... thrill to navigating rush hour traffic."

Первичная школа

Первичная школа

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