she sits there with her eyes pale but shining and sultry as she dips a teasing hand between her thighs, you fall apart. her name is a whisper released from your lips, sounds like heaven but sounds like something completely disarming.
her moans are your undoing and while she bruises your neck you press nothing but feathery marks into her skin, she's too soft to be rough with, you think.
oh but how wrong you are. she leaves you for something more callous, more sharper and you lay awake at night wishing your slaps weren't too light and your fists hit harder. but you are too soft and pretty and you smell like something loving rather than something made just to fuck.
you try to loose her in soft things, things that are the complete opposite of her trivial indulgences. and it works, you lather yourself in sweet smelling cologne and quit smoking because your palms are supposed to be baby soft and the complete opposite of a bad boy with nothing to loose.
you wear fred perry like you were born with it on because she told you not to.
