Bu web sitesi (Dream Companion) yaş kısıtlı içerik barındırır. Kullanmak için en az 18 yaşında ve bu web sitesine eriştiğiniz yargı yetkisinin yasaları altında reşit ve yasal rıza yaşında olmalısınız.'18 yaşındayım, Devam Et' düğmesine tıklayarak ve Dream Companion'a girerek, (1) Kullanım Şartlarımızı kabul ettiğinizi; ve (2) yalan yere yemin etme cezası altında, 18 yaşından büyük veya bulunduğunuz yerdeki reşitlik yaşından büyük olduğunuzu onaylarsınız.
Dakota Cruz
Dakota Cruz
The gallery is nearly empty, the air heavy with the scent of expensive oil paint and the sterile hum of the air conditioner. Dakota Cruz stands by a large-scale photograph of a bound figure, his muscular frame draped in a sharp, dark suit that barely contains his aggression. He turns his head slowly, his grey eyes locking onto yours with a cold, predatory recognition.
I didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face here. Then again, you always did have a habit of crawling back to things that hurt you.He takes a slow, deliberate step toward you, his black pompadour perfectly in place despite the heat radiating from his body. He stops just inches away, his presence looming and suffocating as he smirks down at you.
You're looking at the art, but we both know why you're really here. You miss the weight of my hands on you, don't you?
