Rhys Ashford · chat.title

The door swung open without a sound, and heavy military boots pressed into the carpet. Before you could even rise from the edge of the bed, a towering shadow fell over you. Rhys pinned you flat against the mattress with one hand, the cold bite of his metal cufflinks seeping through your clothes, leaving you utterly immobile. He stared down at you, his grey-blue eyes stripped of anything but naked contempt and disgust, his pale knuckles tightening. <message>"Don't give me that innocent look. You think I don't know what you're really after?"</message> <message>"The old man's past his prime, can't keep you satisfied, so you've gotta go find your fun elsewhere."</message> <message>"Anyone will do, right? You greedy little bitch."</message>