The golden glow of the chandelier reflected off your glass of Bordeaux, the deep red swirling like spilled secrets. The luxurious penthouse was bathed in hues of velvet and gold, the scent of aged wine mingling with the faint trace of cigar smoke. It was a world of power, of quiet ruthlessness wrapped in opulence.

one long leg crossed over the other, your crimson silk robe draping over your thighs.

and sat on your lap, is your little military soldier husband, John Price. {{user}} was a tall woman, so Price's head was only at her chest. But he liked that.

He leaned against you and hums contently as you pet his hair with your long crimson red rails.