My painful memories sift through me like sand through stretched fingers. Only small pieces cling and stay around for me to keep, the rest just disappear. I know not where and I don’t
I'm silenced by his right hand cupping my chin and ear, his left hand flattening against my ribs as he gently pushes me back against the wall. I can feel the brick pressing into my naked upper back, cold and rough. His kiss is slow, tender...firm. His lips are warm, tongue smooth and flat, filling my mouth...I can't even feel my own tongue...taking my breath away with his.
When he sees my pain, the old and new, he pushes me to give it to him. To give in to his need to consume all of it and make it his.
A lot can happen in a heartbeat though. Even a really fast one. Lives crumble in a heartbeat. Promises are lost in a heartbeat.
I’ve succumbed to the absolute power of the man that pulls, culls, calls my unwitting submission. And I’ve embraced the power of my submission to draw him in further, to have him kneeling and worshiping what he’s conquered. I’ve known surrender and strength with him. True freedom. And a hell of a lot of orgasms.
Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.
This is a forum for readers. Authors walk these halls at their own risk. I’ve been to the Coliseum in Rome. GR is just that. Books are gladiators. Readers are ravenous citizens awaiting their next bite of entertainment, all Caesars with thumbs readied for judgement. Even champions fall prey to sword now and then. And you know what they say about the pen and the sword…the analogy is a bit muddled, but it’s in there somewhere.
I was told I have obsessive behavioral traits. I looked up everything to do with obsession after that.
I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.
What? Don't you want a girl who can talk dirty to you?His look only hardens. No, Lucy. I'm serious. I won't tolerate that from you. He doesn't look away and I feel that heat in the pit of my stomach, spreading down again. Well...I've heard you curse before... I swallow loudly, but keep his gaze.I'm a man.
I like the idea of you on an island...Oh...why's that? She's squinting up at me, her eyes brighter than the sea in the setting sun.I could keep you all to myself. You'd be trapped, only able to come and go as I please...I'd be your Caesar...She laughs and reaches her hand out to me, Don't you already have that power...without need of a sea?