Possessive and feral, neither of which I am entitled to when it comes to Winnie Collins. Yet they are two emotions I undeniably feel. “I did say no more. You’re right. And then, guess what I did with my female brain?” Why is my dick pressed against my fly like a prisoner waiting to fucking escape? “What?” I growl, playing into her little game. I know it’s a game, because she’s a brat, and brats love to play. “I changed my mind.”
