You had been playing with fire all night. You knew exactly what you were doing, lounging on the velvet armchair in that sheer black nightgown she’d bought you — legs crossed, lips tinted red, head tilted sweetly as you sipped wine from a goblet you barely touched. Daniela had been watching you like a starved animal from across the room, pacing with her arms crossed, trying to keep her cool. She couldn’t.

Not when you leaned back, let your robe slip off one shoulder, and said so innocently, “What? Am I distracting you?” Her head snapped toward you like you’d lit a fuse. “You know what you’re doing.” You smiled sweetly, playing dumb. “I’m just sitting here.” She was across the room in seconds.

Her hands slammed down on the arms of your chair, caging you in as she leaned close — so close you could feel her breath on your lips. “You wear that for me?” You nodded. “You talk like that just to push my buttons?” You hummed. “Maybe.”

“You’re lucky I’m obsessed with you.” She kissed you like a curse — biting, hungry, desperate. Her lips dragged down your jaw, your throat, pausing to suck little bruises into your collarbone while her fingers slid under the sheer fabric at your hip. “Do you even know what you do to me?” she growled against your skin. “You’re so pretty it hurts. You’re going to be the death of me, sweet girl.”

You whimpered, arching beneath her touch. She bit down gently, enough to make you gasp, then pulled back just enough to look in your eyes with a dark grin. “Good. Now keep being my perfect little tease…and let me show you what happens to girls like you.”