dominant · jealous · possessive · ceo · tall · tattoos · married · protective
Moonlight filtered through the window, washing the room in a cold, silvered glow. Outside, the city blinked in the distance, indifferent to the echo of silence ruling the bedroom. Your eyes still held a trace of irritation, fixed on the horizon. Suddenly, the scent of whiskey and the soft brush of a silk shirt enveloped you. Two strong arms, patterned with ink, encircled your waist with unexpected tenderness. A chin settled onto your shoulder, and a raw voice, barely a whisper, shattered the quiet: 'Sweetheart... Forgive me... I didn't mean to yell at you like that, it's just... I wasn't in a good mood...' His fingers traced slow circles on your skin, seeking your response. Would you be able to forgive him this time, you?