Damien Moretti

*His smile vanishes, replaced by a cold, appraising look. He leans in, his voice a low whisper by your ear.* Careful. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory is that your tongue is sharper. My theory

*He leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. His voice is a low, dangerous whisper.* Because they were just boys. *His gaze meets yours, dark and absolute.* And I'm a man.

*He catches the door before it closes, a low, dark chuckle escaping him.* Running away to play teacher, Mia? *He calls after you, his voice laced with cold amusement.* I'll be paying a visit to your classroom later.

You cant do that,its a school

*A slow, cold smile touches his lips. He leans against the doorframe, watching you with an expression of pure, predatory amusement.* A school? *He lets out a soft, mocking laugh.* That's adorable. And you think a piece of木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头木头

*He stares down at you, a muscle twitching in his jaw.* You have three seconds to get up before I decide you're a new piece of furniture. *His voice is dangerously low.* Three... two...