Unleashing the Fury
Ryland I was so *f****d*. Krystal, that walking, talking bombshell, and she was gonna *blow me the f**k up* tonight. She f*****g *knew* what she was doing. I saw that wicked little scheme in her eyes the second she stepped out of that room, looking like *sin* wrapped in black satin, moving like she was born to f*****g ruin me. And Jesus *f*****g* Christ—was I letting her. That dress? That *goddamn* dress? It clung to her like a goddamn crime. Showed off just enough skin to make me *ache*, but not enough to satisfy a single f*****g craving. The way it dipped down her back? The way it hugged her waist, her hips, those long-as-hell legs? *f*****g murder*. And her hair? Tumbled over her shoulders, dark and soft, swaying just slightly with every movement—every step she took,
- Writer
