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How would it feel to push her? To undo her? To break her fucking glasses? Because I got the sense she might like her glasses broken.
Grayson. Is that supposed to mess me up, when she says my name low and throaty? Hell, it just makes me want to hear it again. But closer, quieter. Along with buttons flying, silk tearing. Petal-soft skin I can bite and mark.
This is how he sees himself. As something to be endured. Inhuman.
