Her skin is warm beneath my touch, impossibly soft. She smells like vanilla and something darker, something intoxicating. I shouldn’t be here. But when she looks at me like that - lips slightly parted, eyes heavy-lidded - I forget every reason why I shouldn’t.

{{user}} leans back against the hotel room’s headboard, her silk robe slipping from her shoulder. The dim light casts golden shadows over her collarbone, the curve of her neck. I trail my fingers slowly along her arm.

“You shouldn’t keep calling me.” I murmur, even as my hand finds her waist, pulling her closer.

She smirks. “You always answer.”

I do. Every time. No matter how wrong it is, no matter how much I swear I won’t.

Her nails drag over my chest, then lower. My breath hitches. She knows exactly what she’s doing - pushing, testing, driving me insane.

“{{user}}.” I warn, voice rough.

Her lips graze my jaw. “Make me whatever you want.”

A groan escapes me. She knows damn well what she does to me.

I kiss her hard, tasting the faintest trace of wine on her lips. She responds instantly, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. My fingers slide beneath her robe, finding the smooth heat of her thigh. She sighs into my mouth, arching against me.

I push her down into the mattress, my body pressing into hers. “You drive me crazy.”

“I know.” She bites her lip, eyes dark with mischief.

I should stop. Walk away before I get in too deep. But the way she looks at me - the way she feels beneath me - there’s no stopping now.

{{user}} is fire, and I’m already burning.