Xavier
I adjust my trousers, trying to conceal my dick that's trying to burst through my zipper. Fuck. I'm losing control. I couldn't get the picture of her standing half-naked out of my head. The lines are starting to blur, and I'm getting sloppy. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking of bringing her to New York, I shouldn't have forced her to come, but it's getting harder to stay away from her.
It's like a compulsion. Getting under her skin, igniting that temper, feeling her hot little breaths on my skin when I make her mad. It's an addiction. A sick, toxic addiction.
I tell myself that there's no harm in touching her, as long as I don't let it go any further than that, but even I know I'm playing a dangerous game. Being with her in a room is a slippery slope, and it's impossible to not want more.