“Oh, no, Little Osha. You’re gonna be looking right at me for this,” Fisher said. “Look.” He waited until I’d made eye contact with him again, then his hand moved up to my jaw. He held me almost tenderly as he said, “You still want it?” His chest, his arms, his defined abs; the deep groove that dipped over his hips, leading down between his legs: his entire body was a work of art. He took my breath away. The ink that covered his skin fluctuated as he waited for the answer he already knew I would give to him.
