Criminal Passion

Deep down, you know: he is everything you were warned about. He’s no good. He can’t be trusted. But he’s consuming you. Crawling into your thoughts day and night. You touch yourself imagining him between your legs, and you know you shouldn’t feed this craving. But how do you resist the inevitable? The danger. The mistake. The sin. They are so inviting… This man will destroy you, girl. He’s the kind your friends would condemn. The one who tears you apart with a glance. The one who makes you wet without even touching you. You love the way you feel when his hand is wrapped around your throat, the way you can find freedom beneath his grip. The kind who f***s you so hard you end up feeling filthy. It’s so good and so wrong… He claimed you. And you can’t hate him for it. He says he wants to truly know you. To touch your demons. To see beyond the scars you hide. And here you are. He watches as you unveil yourself. You shine inside a blood-soaked ring. You are his penance. The only one who could ever bring the feared Don Santoro to his knees. You can’t control the desire. The devotion. The chemistry. He makes you touch the sky when he’s between your legs, taking your body with a passion that shatters your defenses. He takes root in your chest, reaches the darkest corners of your mind — and it excites you. Maybe that’s what connected you. He saw your worst and loved you. You saw his worst and loved him back. Together, you turned scars into constellations of a chaotic universe. You transformed the bitter taste of danger into fine liquor. You made sin into something fascinating, tempting, divine. Because, deep down, you were always the same. Lost souls devouring each other. Monsters recognizing one another. Hunter and prey, shifting roles. Killers.