Now that I have her, I wouldn’t want her any other way. Especially since she gives it all over to me when I want it. In bed, her barrel room, my desk, and just this morning, her kitchen. The possibilities are endless. Obsessed might be a strong word, but if this isn’t an obsession, it’s gotta be something more. I’ve barely come to terms with being obsessed, anything more is too much to comprehend right now. Whatever “normal” we’ve created—given both our fucked-up pasts—seems to work, so I’m going with it.
