dahlia
You can't buy this fineness
She is, indeed.
Things have taken root and positively bloomed within Stormbreak in the time since she has last spoken with Sunjata, and Dahlia feels his presence like someone plucking at an invisible thread, sending the vibrations thrumming through her bones.
She opens the door mere moments after his knock, dark tresses braided out of her face, dressed in layers of fine linen and organza in shades of deep red and embroidered gold. "What a fine presence to appear at my door," she breathes, all praise and violet approval, ushering him inside.
"You look well, Sunjata," she purrs, letting a hand whisper across his shoulder blades and around to his bicep, guiding him towards the dark mahogany desk and the rich, plush seats at either side of it. "To what do I owe the exquisite pleasure?"
Things have taken root and positively bloomed within Stormbreak in the time since she has last spoken with Sunjata, and Dahlia feels his presence like someone plucking at an invisible thread, sending the vibrations thrumming through her bones.
She opens the door mere moments after his knock, dark tresses braided out of her face, dressed in layers of fine linen and organza in shades of deep red and embroidered gold. "What a fine presence to appear at my door," she breathes, all praise and violet approval, ushering him inside.
"You look well, Sunjata," she purrs, letting a hand whisper across his shoulder blades and around to his bicep, guiding him towards the dark mahogany desk and the rich, plush seats at either side of it. "To what do I owe the exquisite pleasure?"
Let me see the heat get to it
