We agreed to be friends. I know we said what happened on New Year’s isn’t going to happen again, but I wish it would. I wish I could knock on her door and join her on her bed. Hell, I’d be happy to stand in the hall and watch. I’d be happy to keep my hands to myself until she told me I could touch myself—could touch her. And if she let me join? I’d make it so good for her. I could be gentle. Rough. I could fuck her like I hated her or I could make love to her and kiss her soft and sweet. I’d get on my knees and beg, or I’d ask her to say please if that’s what she liked. I’d call her perfect.
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IM GAGGED
