She feels good there, pressed against me. It must cloud my mind. Or maybe it's the two sips of alcohol I had. Or maybe it’s the sun. Or maybe it’s the short fucking skirt she’s wearing that swishes against her upper thighs with each step. Either way, I speak, and the words absolutely do not pass through a filter before leaving my mouth. “If you were mine, I’d fuck ‘fine’ out of your vocabulary. A woman like you? Deserves nothing but fucking perfection.”
