The shortest woman I've ever taken to my bed must've been five eight or nine. Because of my strength I tend to stay away from women like her. Delicate flowers that bruise too easy. I looked down at my hands now and imagined them on her with nothing between us. Would I hurt her? Unintentional though it would be, it would still f**k with my head. This is so f****d!
She was acting completely different now. Gone was the sexy nymph who'd challenged me to be replaced by the shy fairy who seemed scared out of her mind. I didn't move, didn't interfere but from the way she looked around as if sensing me made me wonder.
Did she know I could see her, hear her? How much does she know about the mating ritual? Did anyone warn her, or had she been thrown to the wolves like I have? No, I'm sure somewher
