“You’re my drug,” Colson murmurs, “created just for me, that wrecks me but can’t kill me. And I’m your addiction you’ll never be able to shake because I’ll never let you go. You’ll keep trying to be good and deny yourself everything you really want, but it won’t work,” he pauses and runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth, “because you’re still my good girl…” then he leans down and rotates his wrist, squeezing my throat between his thumb and forefinger, “Honeybee,” he hums against my lips.
