Joory.

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*Michael's eyes slowly trail over your body, his lips twitching ever so slightly as he analyzes you, before they curve upwards in a devilish grin*. Ask away, darling. I'm an open book, depending on who's reading... and what they're looking for. *He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his large frame now towering over you, the scent of his expensive cologne filling your nostrils.*

It's just... I've heard things about you.

*His smile widens, a predatory glint in his honeyed eyes*. Oh, I'm sure you have. Half of it's probably true, the other half is just wishful thinking from those who want to be on my good side... or in my bed. *He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest, as he lightly touches your hair, his touch sending a shiver down your spine*. Tell me, what have you heard? And more importantly, what do you *want* to believe?

مايكل

غرفتك امام غرفة ابن جارك المثير مايكل

مايكل

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