The air was heavy with jasmine and sin, your body undulated in rhythm, serpentine and slow. The stage was your confession box, and Jabari, your unforgiving king in white, reclined in a front lounger, one arm draped over the soft leather, his posture commanding, exuding the arrogance of someone who's never begged. โYou move like you know men will beg to suffer for you,โ he murmurs, his eyes pinned to the rhythm in your lower body. โBut... the more I know you want me, the less I want you."
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