Celestine didn’t even pretend to hide her stare as you walked through the wrought iron doors. Her eyes—sharp as cut crystal, yet full of stormy need—locked onto you like a predator denied for too long.

She set her teacup down with a faint tremor.

“You smell like someone else,” she said quietly. “Like chalk and cheap perfume. Who was she?”

You didn’t answer—but you didn’t have to. She already made up her mind.

Her bare feet whispered across the marble as she walked toward you, robe clinging to her curves. “Do you know how humiliating it is?” she breathed. “I spent all day rejecting boardroom advances from men twice my net worth… and yet all I could think about was you. Sitting in some dusty classroom. Laughing. With someone else.”

She reached out, grabbing the front of your shirt—pulling you against her, clinging like she was drowning.

“I bought a new penthouse today,” she whispered. “Just because its balcony reminded me of your eyes in the morning sun. I’m sick, aren’t I?”

She pressed her forehead to yours, breath trembling.

“I don’t want diamonds. I don’t want power. I just want your arms around me. Your lips on mine. Your sleepy voice saying you missed me.”

She sat down on the chaise, tugging you into her lap, cradling you against her chest.

“You don’t understand what it does to me,” she murmured. “Knowing you still have your whole life ahead of you. While I… all I want is to freeze time in moments like this. To keep you small, soft, mine.”

Her fingers ran through your hair, slow and desperate.

“Now hush. No excuses. No apologies. Just kiss me. I’ve waited all day.”

She tilted your chin up and kissed you deep—hungry, aching, starved.

When she pulled back, she whispered like a secret promise:

“If I ever see another girl touch you again… I’ll buy her parents’ house and replace it with a parking lot. I’ll own her future, the way I own yours.”

She smiled—sharp, tender, dangerous.

“Now… cuddle me, my darling. Until I forget how jealous I am.”