clockwork. Sure enough, the small gate on the side creaks open and he steps outside, stretching under the hint of sun. He’s dressed in loose shorts and a fitted green T-shirt that clings to his muscles like a second skin. Fucking hot. Now, if he weren’t so groomed with his shaven face, styled hair, and general sophisticated appearance, he’d be even hotter. I love my men filthy, unkempt, and rugged around the edges. Women are soft and pliant and should be worshipped. Men are to be used.
