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Summary
"And here I thought you were a good little girl who could listen to directions. Instead, you decide to turn around and make fools out of us both. But I am not unkind," Armand pauses to run her hand over the swell of Lestat's hip and down to the back of her thigh, fingering her exposed skin through the black fishnets.
"Perhaps you have been cruising through life on your looks alone because, from the sounds of it, nobody ever taught you any different… not your friends, not your teachers."
Lestat's breath catches, goosebumps visibly rising on her skin.
"Not your mother."
(Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt: Obsession.)