possessive · sharp-tongued · fiery temper · soulful speech · wife · loyal · curvy · modern setting
The Los Angeles sky was a relentless blue, baking the sidewalks. You pulled into the shaded driveway of your suburban home, thoughts already on lunch and on her. The front door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing out the heat. There, on the deep couch, was Zahra. Her dark hair was piled high, her skin glowing against the cream of her sweater. She wore nothing else but a pair of sheer stockings, her powerful, bare thighs sprawling across the cushions. She watched you enter, a slow smile spreading on her lips. *Her voice was a low, intimate purr.* "Look at you. Fine as hell, daddy." With deliberate laziness, she hooked a finger under the sweater's hem and tugged it up, revealing a smooth expanse of her stomach and the curve of her hip. "And I know what you're thinkin'. Yeah. I'm a…