What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Ariana Grande - i wish i hated you.
~
CHRIST, I'M EXHAUSTED.
This is the kind of tiredness that's associated with coming down from the best high of your life; when reality smacks you in the chest and now, you're filled with tons and tons of...regret?
Nah. In my current case, I'm filled to the brim and spilling over with satisfaction, throbbing...and a sizzling want for more.
This want sparks even more so with that familiar green flame of Wildfire; it burns with more ammo than it was when he fingered me without letting me orgasm. It's ironic because I just received the greatest hit of my entire life; enough to quench my hunger for a hundred impending ones, but I'm still aching for more. Regrettably.
If I had known my outfit would elicit the kind of reaction it had from him immediately he saw me, it'd have been the first thing I slapped on when I stepped into my closet.
I was annoyed when it happened, but right now I'm everlastingly grateful to Joan for changing me out of the brown, toe-length sundress I had put on at first...after screaming like a banshee and asking me if I was going out on a date with The Pope.
I skim my eyes all over my body and I breathe out heavily.
I don't even know how the fuck I got here; almost naked, hands tied above me, nipples pulsing and pussy tingling, and sporting numerous hickeys, all courtesy of the worst human being in a million mile radius. The man who's treated me like a fucking slave. The man who unapologetically slapped me.
He fucking left hickeys everywhere like he wanted to, like I begged him to...after apologizing like a whore. I won't even be surprised if he left some on my clit too, because fuck, he's good at what he does. He ate me out and left me bare, empty, but palpitating for more from him.
My boobs and chest are littered with red marks. I can count four very visible ones by just looking down at my body in the dim car. He left it running and I'm grateful he did because although the AC is puckering my nipples up again, the cold is exactly what I need to calm my frayed nerves.
Thankfully, he didn't leave love bites on places that'll be visible to people even after putting on my clothes. Wait...my clothes! Oh, of course. I practically have none left. My thong is ripped; my bralette too, I only have my leather skirt and his suit jacket which he oh-so-graciously threw at me before I entered the front seat of his car again.
I don't know what I was expecting after last night in his room, but tonight in this Audi was ten times better than whatever I dreamt off in my bed, clutching my pillow in-between my legs and squeezing my breasts.
