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When everything in your common sense can tell you plainly that you should absolutely not be doing something, but you still just say fuck it and do it anyway.
Hahaha I know the feeling 🤣
“You beautiful fucking disaster,” he said and wrapped a hand around the back of my head before he crushed his lips against mine.
“If you don’t want this to happen, I need you to say something now. This is the only chance I’m going to give you to tell me to stop before I fuck you right into tears. And you can think about it for a
second before you decide. You probably should.”
“I’ve never been gentle with you, Fancy Face, and I don’t intend to start now. This won’t be slow and easy. I want your screams. I want you to break your fingernails on my skin. I want the fucking air in your lungs.”
Hot damn 🥵🥵
I wanted to fucking stab her, and I wanted to kiss her. What a strange way to feel about someone.
She tasted like fucking ecstasy,
I kissed her the same way that I planned to fuck her, like I hated her.
Fighting to hold back an orgasm was going to be the death of me.
Hate and love both hold hands with passion. They both make people do equally crazy things and the line between them disappears while you think you’re staring right at it.”
“A soulmate doesn’t just happen by chance,” she said. “It’s not somebody you just stumble across. Soulmates are made. I think you decide that you want somebody. You have to keep choosing that somebody every second of every day. You have to decide that they’re worth all the shitty days, that you’d miss the sound of their snoring more than you’d ever want
the quiet nights back, that their broken pieces can fit together with your own so you both have a little better chance at being whole.”
“That wasn’t a request,” he whispered. “You can get on
your knees on your own, or I can put you on them. Makes no difference to me.”
She tasted like pure ecstasy. She really was a hit of nitro to the heart.
“I’ll let that one slide because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as stunning as you are when you break for me.”
“Let it happen, baby,” I whispered. “Break for me. And shatter me with you.”
“Do you? I can’t help but wonder why I can’t hate you the way that I want?” He asked. “I think maybe it’s because fighting with you is like screaming into a fucking mirror.”
My mind was set on hurting her; not on her trying to suck my soul out through my cock.
“You son of a bitch,” she seethed. “I fucking hate you.”
“I don’t think I believe you anymore, baby.”
It was the most painful goodbye I’d ever experienced, and I didn’t even know the man.
