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I’d fucked the enemy last night.
It was the way he touched me. The way he looked at me. Why couldn’t I have just bent over and let him take me from behind again?
Chelsea was right; I was the good guy. He was the bad boy. And I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker.
It just feels like there’s always something more important than me out there. To everyone I know.
“You distract me, and risotto is a delicate dish.” “I’m distracting you? How?” I sighed. “You being so close makes me want to bend you over the counter and fuck you as I hold a knife to your throat.”
🥵🥵🥵
“You’re mine. You’ve had your moment of freedom. You will never escape me again.”
