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Let them write “morally questionable” on my tombstone. I won’t deny it. I live in the grey.
He’s fire, and I’m a suicidal moth.
Oh fuck, those tattoos and goddammit, he has nipple piercings. Of course he does. And hell, he has a barbell in his belly button too. I bite back a groan and roll my neck. There’s no way I’m making it out of here with my dignity intact.
“I only came here to talk.” Lex raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? It seems your penis disagrees.”
I nip and pant at his heels because he’s using my cock as a leash and I’m desperate for whatever lesson he has in store for me.
One day I’m going to smear him in chocolate pudding and lick every delectable inch of him. He’d let me too. He’d just pant and whine like a good boy.
I’m going to brag for a moment, so bear with me. I am fabulous at giving head. I’ve been told so by many. I give it so good, I actually won an award once. I’d made it myself, but still. It counts.
His mouth is mine. His whole body is mine. I didn’t have parents and I never learned how to share.
Well, I guess I’m keeping him because the thought of him with someone else makes me want to rage.
he moves toward me, wrapping me in his strong arms and pressing gentle kisses to my collarbones. My heart just melts in my chest. Stupid ice cream heart.
“I am consumed by you,” he says, running one of his hands through my hair and tugging on it. “I have never felt this way about another person.”