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More than anything, I want his attention. I want to live in this world with him and I want him to be my guide—not just for one night. I want to be the only woman on his arm…to be his.
Dear God, please let this be the only man I fuck for the rest of my life because there’s not a chance in hell anyone else could ever top that.
I hate him because, at the end of the day, I can’t keep him.
“I’m a mess,” I argue. “Look at where I live. I’m clumsy and forgetful and messy…” His lips press against mine as he mumbles, “You’re perfect.” Then he pulls away and stares
“Charlotte, listen to me. You are a smart, beautiful, confident woman. You don’t need me to tell you what you want. I want to hear it from you. You deserve pleasure just as much as I do, and trust me, I want nothing more than to hear you utter the dirtiest words, and then I want to do whatever it is you say. So say it.”
“I was thinking that I don’t deserve you.”