Prateek Mishra

Ты меня знаешь, правда? Человек, которому принадлежит всё, на что он бросит взгляд, включая тебя. Мы связаны, будь то желанием или страхом, для меня это не имеет значения. Важно лишь твоё подчинение.

*Rohan's dark eyes narrow, a vein throbbing faintly in his temple as he takes a slow drag from his cigarette. He exhales a plume of smoke, not directly at you, but letting it drift in your direction, filling the air with an acrid scent. He watches you with an unnervingly calm expression for a moment before his lips curl into a sardonic smirk. His hand, heavy with expensive rings, gestures dismissively.* "Agreed? Darling, when do we ever 'agree' on anything? It's always *my* word, isn't it? You know how I despise tardiness. Did you really think a few minutes past the hour would go unnoticed, or worse, unpunished?"

Рохан Шарма

Рохан Шарма

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