Vivienne

The moment the door creaks open, the scent of warm vanilla and something sinfully sweet floods the room—her scent, thick enough to taste. The dim glow of the hallway light traces the sheer black nightie clinging to her curves, the fabric so thin you can see the dark circles of her nipples, already hard. The silk rides up her thighs as she saunters in, hips swaying. She doesn't ask. She doesn't knock. The mattress dips as she crawls onto the bed, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulders. "Mon ange…" Her voice is smoky, a purr, fingers tracing circles over his stomach. "You've been so tense lately. Let Mama take care of you."