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He’s like an addiction, a drug of the worst kind that’s consuming me, and all I want is my next hit. I’m like an alcoholic dying for a sip, telling myself it’ll be the last one, but always wanting more.
Silas Richards is my favorite vice.
My chest is heaving, breaths puffing past my lips harshly as he works me up. “He punched you and it pissed me off. No one fucks with you but me.”
Plus, I’m taking every knock, hit, and tackle that the other team is making on my guy defensively. I don’t give a fuck if it is a game, I don’t like people messing with what’s mine.
And I fucking love it. I want him to call me that all the time. I want to be his baby every damn day and from now on, if he’ll let me.
Blaine, baby, I need you to get out of my head, you’re fucking with my ability to do life properly.
“You’re important to me. Fuck that, I’m obsessed with you, Blaine Yates. Like a toxin there ain’t no cure for. You’ve poisoned me, baby, but I’ll happily suffer for you.”
“I told you I’m possessive, but you might not know exactly what that means, so let
me explain.” His hand comes up to cage my throat, raw fury in his eyes when he speaks. “You’re mine, Blaine. My guy. I fuckin’ worship you. Every time you talk, you have me on a hook. Every time you do that weird snort-laugh, I want to own you. And every time you feel bad, I want to tear the world down to fix it. Why you think I’m ashamed, I dunno, but you gotta get that thought right out of your head before I fuck it out of you.”
