“I don’t know what the fuck this is,” he says, “but it’s sure as fuck a hell of a lot more than lust.” And then he’s kissing me, sinking into me, deeper and deeper. Not just physically, but in every other way possible. Deep into my body. Into my mind. Into my soul. He replaces my emotional pain with our physical pleasure. And it’s terrifying. And delusional. And destructive. And perfect.
