and when she says, “c’mon, let me be your pet,” there’s a cat grin like she was perched before a canary.

she’s the dream that turns and grabs your cock and twists it tight until it can’t get any harder.

and you want to grab her, her hips, put her over, under you, turn her around smack her behind, pry open her mouth. you want to brush the hair from her lips and devour her, be devoured by her, again and again.
you want to find at what point does the grin fall away and you see something raw and broken and real. to find something worth fucking.