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“You mean aside from the big ‘FUCK YOU’ you’ve got tattooed on your forehead?” He gestures at my face with his hand. I purse my lips. “Oh, so you can see it. Good. For a minute there, I thought it must have washed off in the shower.”
“Yeah, I do. And right now, all signs point to me taking you down to my room and fucking your brains out.” Dead. RIP Jake Compton, the best grinder the NHL ever had. He died doing what he loved most.
His muscles are tight under his grey t-shirt, and his jeans are doing the lord’s work.
“Were you afraid you’d lose me to a real man?” I murmur. “Not a chance, gorgeous,” he replies. “You’ve got all the man you need right here.”
“You need to stay over there because, if you don’t, I’ll fuck you right here in this elevator and there’s no way in hell that’s happening. I’m taking my time with you.”
Of course, my perfect girl likes to play. I bet she’s got more kinks than a garden hose.
“What a good fucking girl,” he croons. I shiver. I typically like to be the one giving the praise, but coming from this sweetheart, it feels dirty and I love it. I love being his good girl. I love earning his praise. I want more.
“Don’t play with me, baby girl. I’ll happily stay in this room giving you what you need all night. I’ll eat that pussy like it’s my goddamn job. Say the word, and I won’t get off my knees.”
“I’ve always loved storms,” she murmurs, her hands resting on my forearms. “The complexity, the power. Its nature showing herself to us. We dare to cage her in, but storms are her way of showing us the truth. She is limitless.”
“You like that, baby girl? My hand on your throat, my fingers in your cunt…I’m gonna claim you, make you mine.”
“Look out the window, baby girl. Keep your eyes open. Seattle is our place. Here in this room, in this city, nothing can keep us apart.”
“The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.”
