dahlia
You can't buy this fineness
"I believe you might just be right about that," Dahlia smiles back to Dorian, though her gaze is directed towards the spray of botanicals decorating their table in a small vase. Her fingers caress their leaves and dried petals, before encircling them like a noose and crushing. Careless, easy, brutal, she sweeps the debris from the table, leaving no evidence of the violence that follows in the wake of her soft caress.
"A long wait," she continues, lifting her eyes to meet Dorian's, her own gaze dark and warm; a forbidden invitation. "But worth every second." Smiling, showing small, white teeth, Dahlia lifts her glass to her lips and indulges in the chaos within and without.
"A long wait," she continues, lifting her eyes to meet Dorian's, her own gaze dark and warm; a forbidden invitation. "But worth every second." Smiling, showing small, white teeth, Dahlia lifts her glass to her lips and indulges in the chaos within and without.
Let me see the heat get to it
