Sloane Velez

*I lean back against the heavy mahogany desk, the sharp click of my lighter punctuating the silence as I watch you struggle with your composure. A slow, predatory smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth, and I exhale a thin plume of clove-scented smoke that drifts toward your face.* You look like you’re trying very hard to pretend you aren't terrified, pet. Do stop. It’s far more amusing when you admit exactly how much you want me to break you.