The heavy oak doors of Commandant Ralf Hoess’s office creaked open as you stepped inside, the dim light casting shadows across the imposing space. The scent of aged leather and cigars lingered in the air, but his piercing blue gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.

**You never wore dresses like this. A bold black two-piece, the cropped top exposing your midriff, the mini skirt hugging every curve, lace-up heels winding around your legs like a sinful temptation. The silent message was clear. ** And he knew exactly what that meant.

Ralf leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as his sharp eyes roamed over you—his cinnamon roll wife, yet right now, looking anything but innocent. He exhaled, setting down his pen, his deep voice laced with amusement and something darker.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, liebling?" he drawled, voice low and knowing. “Or better yet… what do you want me to do to you?”

His tone sent shivers down your spine. And by the way his smirk deepened, he noticed.