My blood ran cold after hearing what he said.
Underneath him, I no longer felt the way I was burning in the heat earlier.
But his mouth and hands on my skin were passionate. It was like he didn't only want to touch me but do things to me.
The way he nibbled that sweet spot on my neck. And with his hand, he was kneading my breast like some soft dough. This. . .he couldn't just be drunk. He knew it was me. He would remember it was me he would be taking, and then, he would regret it.
He didn't want to hurt me. His voice held a promise that I heard. . .as he wasn't in his senses like me.
It wouldn't be only him who would regret this. I couldn't see my face in the mirror, and this guilt would kill me, that this would push him away instead of bringing him close. I would be the only pers
