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“I thought you meant you’d fire him, not try to kill him!” She snaps. Fucking hell, this went south fast.
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Men that know they’re hot are usually obnoxious about it. Which is definitely not hot.
I suppose I could’ve spent more time really digging into what made her tick instead of burying my cock in her twenty-four seven, but Layla feels like an angel dripped in fucking sin.
anxious. I hate that she’ll have to deal with all the emotion that will follow this alone. I hate that this won’t be the last time I do this to her.
He groans, “Yes, but please don’t do any creepy shit, not tonight.” “I’m not creepy. I’m invested.” I deadpan, knowing damn well I’m a little creepy.
Not breathing again until I’m sure her amber-colored eyes aren’t about to flutter open. Her waking up to find me knuckle deep in her vagina would be… difficult to explain.
That’s how this ends, right? I die, we both die or I…what? Succumb to the Stockholm Syndrome and ride off into the sunset on my stalker’s ridiculously large dick?
When this is all said and done, please know it was done from love. Every moment has been because I cannot and will not live without you.
“I’ve spent my whole life hiding that part of me, the part that… fixates. You changed all of that the moment I saw you, I didn’t want to hide anymore. I just wanted you to see me, Layla.”
