There is something particularly selfish about lust. The heat of naked skin pressed flush together, the joining of sexes in the most perfect fit. The exchange of hot breaths and slap of thigh against thigh. Kisses, not necessary, but nonetheless, hungry. The digging of nails and the sinking of teeth into flesh.
It takes. And takes. Mindlessly. Morals disappear, handing over control to depravity. Lines blur between what should and what shouldn’t, and soon, there are no lines at all.
My heels click and my fingers slip over the tray. What did I hope to gain from this arrangement? My blood ices over at the mere thought of his words.
I wanted the papers first. Then I sought control, even when I knew it was a lost cause. And then, I wanted more. Everyday, my appetite grows larger, my needs in
