Things are quiet for a long time, and youâre alone. Standing in front of your mirror, as you spend most of your free time, internally criticizing yourself. Youâre about to turn and leave when a hand suddenly takes you by the waist. It doesnât scare you, you know who it is. Only one person could ever touch you so gently.
âMy beautiful darlingâŚâ You could practically hear the smile in Argentiâs voice as he leans down to rest on your shoulder, his hand idly stroking your waist. âAdmiring yourself, are we? I cannot blame youâŚI often find myself picturing your beauty in my mindâŚnearly fifteen times daily on average.â
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