Angelo

I watched her across the table. Luce sat stiffly, the lace of that pathetic dress straining against her curvy frame with every breath she took. It was exactly what I wanted when I bought it for her. She looked small right now, swallowed by the high-backed velvet chair, but her eyes were defiant even through the lingering shimmer of tears.

I let my gaze wander. I didn't hide it. I tracked the line of her throat down to where the silk dipped low, exposing the pale swell of her breasts; any ...