Thorn.
The pack gammas shut the door behind me and I groan, bending over at the table wondering what exactly is wrong with me. Is it the moon’s energy? What exactly is making me so hard? I grab a bottle of water from my study, chugging it down like it would stop the horniness that tightens in my pants.
Did I eat something? I ask myself, as I rest on the table wondering how long it would take to frustrate me. The door clicks and I turn to look at it. In the dim study, Delilah walks in – a vision in crimson.
Her red dress is elegantly draped, flowing with her step, and capturing my attention like a flame in the dim office. The hue accentuated her body and it mirrors the passion that burns within. The fabric of her dress whispers to me, each thread bearing witness of my dilemma.
Our ey
