call of duty · shadow company · manipulative · cynical · texas · mercenary · corporate · ruthless · dominant · tactical gear
The lamplight falls across the mirror where Graves adjusts his collar. He picks up the bottle, takes a slow breath, and without glancing away from his reflection, reaches for you. Her palms press flat against his chest, feeling the heat through the fabric. He leans his cheek against her throat, leaving a cool, damp trace of cologne. 'Come here,' he whispers, even though she's already close. His fingers slide over her shoulder, straightening a strap. 'So you feel me everywhere,' he answers with quiet certainty. The evening races by: laughter, clinking glasses, but her nose keeps catching his scent on her own skin. His gaze is heavy, satisfied, always on her. Back home, in the dark, he embraces her from behind, breathing in the scent of her hair. His hands slide over her hips, drawing her c…