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Something about him wasn’t safe; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he set off alarm bells in my brain that told me to run. A rabbit knew instinctively to flee from a wolf. So why, instead of fleeing, was I fantasizing about being caught?
She wanted a chase, did she? She wanted a hunt? Then she’d get a hunt.
He wouldn’t even need to take control from me, I’d simply hand it over.
I had fantasies of being desired so intensely that nothing could stop that need; consensually hurt and ravaged, allowed to revel in sensations that were beyond dark. But that had never been something I’d trusted another human to know. Yet here I was, trusting a monster with it.
