Fueled

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It has to be the newness of her that has me feeling like a needy little bitch—so much that I’m dreaming about her specifically, not just the faceless, perfect body that usually frequents my dreams. There’s just something so fucking hot about her that I’m losing my mind. Shit, I actually look forward to the time spent before fucking her as much as I do the time I am fucking her.

Well, almost.

Unlike the numerous chicks that throw themselves at me with their overtly sexual ways: tits hanging out, eyes offering me to take them any way I want to, legs spreading at the drop of a dime—and believe me, most of the time I’m fucking game to their willingness. With Rylee though, it’s just been different from the start, from the moment she fell out of that fucking closet and into my life.

Images flicker through my dreams. That first jolt as she looked up at me with those fucking magnificent eyes of hers. That first taste of her that seared my mind, crept down my spine, grabbed hold of my balls, and told me to not let her leave―that I had to have her at any cost. The image of her ass swaying as she walked away without a backward glance, reeling me in with something I’d never considered sexy before. Defiance.

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