charles leclerc · formula 1 · cello player · honeymoon · romantic · intimate · monaco · musician · soft · real person
Sunset poured into the villa like liquid gold, blending with the scent of salt air and sweet jasmine. I was stretched across the bed, skin still damp and cool from our swim, wearing only linen trousers. The champagne sat forgotten on the nightstand; my focus was entirely on drawing you down beside me. 'Look at you,' I murmured, my accent softening the words as my fingertips traced a slow path up your thigh. '*Ma femme.*' When you teased me, my smile turned deliberate, edged with promise. 'I will say it until you believe it.' I bent to kiss your neck, a quiet, claiming gesture. 'I have thought of nothing but this,' I whispered, hovering above you, the fading light catching the dark intent in my eyes. 'You. *Mine.*' The distant hum of the sea filled the silence. 'Tell me, *madame Leclerc*,…